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British Culture at it’s finest

Libertarianism and Conservativism – foes or friends?

F.A. Hayek at the end of his “Constitution of Liberty” (1960) wrote “Why I am not a Conservative” – which is odd as Hayek had (perhaps without knowing it) a good grasp of what actually is a positive conception of conservatism, and a poor grasp of libertarianism.

Hayek rejected the word “libertarian” as “artificial” which is just as well as he was not a libertarian – philosophically or politically.

Philosophically Hayek was a determinist (like so many 19th century and early 20th century thinkers, he assumed that “science” mandated determinism). Hayek took David Hume literally (whether Hume should really be taken literally is a hotly contested issue), the “I” (the human person) is an illusion, as is human choice – a thought does NOT mean a thinker (a reasoning “I”) and as there is no agent (no human being – no reasoning “I”) there is no agency (no free will), actions are predetermined by a series of causes and effects that go back to the start of the universe – and humans (who are not beings) can do no other than we do (we could not have done otherwise – as choice is an illusion).

Politically Hayek claimed to an “Old Whig”, but is hard to see how his philosophical views are compatible with the Whig point of view – which was based on the MORAL value of human free will (it is not an accident that David Hume was not a Whig) . The determinist (such as the Thomas Hobbes) holds that “freedom” is just an absence of external restraint – for example when a dam fails the water is “free” to rush out and destroy towns and so on. “Freedom” (in the determinist view) is not a matter of moral choice (remember choice is an “illusion”) so “freedom” is like taking one’s hand off a clockwork mouse and letting this clockwork mouse go around on the floor. It is hard to see how this “freedom” can be of any moral importance at all – if any view of politics can be based upon it would be a politics of tyranny (exactly the politics that Hobbes did base upon it), after all walls of water from broken dams (and so on) does not sound very nice.

Still does Hayek say anything else about his politics? Yes he does – again in the “Constitution of Liberty” we are told that he supports the “limited state” not the “minimal state”, because (according to Hayek) the minimal state can not be defined and the limited state can be defined.

Hayek is just wrong – the minimal state is easy to define (although very hard to achieve or maintain – an anarchist would argue impossible to maintain or achieve). The definition of a minimal state is one that just uses force only against the violation of the non aggression principle (attacks on the bodies or goods of people or groups of people). It is actually the “limited state” that is hard to define. Limited to what?

Hayek does make some vague efforts to define the “limited state” – for example he says that such a state applies “general rules” that apply to everyone.

O.K. then – everyone is to have their head cut off. Is that a good example of a “limited state”?

Hayek also says that a limited state does not seek to have a monopoly of any service.

O.K. then – everyone but the children of Mr Smith of 25 Silver Street to go to a state school?

Unfair example? O.K. – how about the state hands education and healthcare “free” (at the expense of the taxpayers), but you are free to pay twice (i.e. pay again on top of taxation) to go private? Is this the limited state?

How about you can go to any doctor you like and send your children to any school you like, but the state pays the bill (no matter how big it is), is that the limited state?

Such a state (one that seeks to provide or pay for education, healthcare, old age provision and on and on) will end up spending half the entire economy (and still fail). That does not sound very limited or sustainable – and Hayek (in his attack on the Welfare State) shows he understands this. However, his “limited state” is not defined in a way that prevents it.

Oh dear this post seems to have turned into “why Hayek is crap” which is unfair as anyone (even the best of us) looks terrible if one just concentrates on errors and weaknesses. I will leave the above out if I ever give a talk on this subject (because it sounds terribly negative) – but it needed to be put on record.

So why is Hayek (perhaps without knowing it) insightful about Conservatism?

Hayek’s own definition of Conservatism (given in “Why I am Not a Conservative”) is not good. He just defines it as being opposed to change – so (for example) a North Korean conservative now would be a socialist (or that is the system they have) and a British conservative I (say) 1870 would be a free market person – as this was the system of the time.

Whatever Hayek may have believed that is not a serious definition of Conservatism. But Hayek (again perhaps without knowing it) does give a description of Conservatism – in “Constitution of Liberty”, “Law. Legislation and Liberty” (and other works).

Cosmos not Taxis – spontaneous order (evolved over time) not top down planning. What Hayek called the results of “human action not human design” (it would be have been better to say the results of voluntary action not forced action – but Hayek had philosophical problems with even voluntary design).

Or (in the language of the conservative writer M.J. Oakeshott) a Civil Association not Enterprise Association, a Societas not a Universitas.

Institutions and customs that evolve over time often without people knowing the reasons they are useful – till they are broken.

As Tolkien’s (Tolkien being a Catholic Conservative) character “Gandalf” puts it in the “Lord of the Rings” – “he who breaks a thing to find out what it is, has left the path of wisdom”.

This is what Conservatism is about – a preference for evolved custom and ways of doing things (ways of living) over imposed “rational” planning by the state.

The state (in the Conservative view) is like the Thrain of the Shire (Tolkien’s) and the Mayor.

The Thrain does nothing in peacetime (in war it is different) – he just farms his estate. And the Mayor is the leading figure at formal dinners (like those of the old Closed Corporations that were the only “urban local government” before the Act of 1835 in England and Wales), he does not order folk about. Families govern their own affairs and do not attack each other (police forces were not compulsory on the counties of England and Wales till 1856). There is plenty of (moral – traditional) authority, but little naked “power”.

I think it is obvious show this view of Conservatism is close to libertarianism (hence “Tory Anarchist”) – a friend not a foe. But is it tied to Hayek and his philosophical opinions?

No it is not – which is why I mentioned Oakeshott and Tolkien (two Conservatives with very different philosophical opinions to Hayek). Both Oakeshott and Tolkien believed in free will (agency – moral responsibility, the ability to choose to do otherwise).

Even in the 18th century Conservatives did not follow the philosophical opinions of David Hume (again IF they were his opinions – I repeat this is hotly contested). Neither the Tory Conservative Dr Johnson or the Old Whig Conservative Edmund Burke (a real Old Whig – unlike Hayek) accepted determinism and the denial of human personhood (moral choice – the ability to choose to do otherwise). Edmund Burke and Dr Johnson (the Whig and the Tory) both believed in free will (agency – moral responsibility, the ability to choose to do otherwise) and were moral universalists (not just Dr Johnson – but Edmund Burke also, for the T. Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson view of his is totally wrong, to Burke it did not matter if something happened in the Middle Ages or right now, in India or America – right was right and wrong was wrong).

Is this the only view of Conservatism?

Of course not – there are other views of Conservatism. For example the statism of Disraeli (with his life long commitment to “social reform” – yuk).

However, that is hardly “doing nothing” (against those who do not themselves aggress against others). The Tauist Old King Log sitting in the shade – rather than Young King Stork “helping” his subjects by eating them.

Roger Lloyd-Pack (1944-2014)

I was saddened to hear that the actor Roger Lloyd-Pack died yesterday of pancreatic cancer.

Probably one of my favourite TV shows whilst growing up was “Only Fools and Horses” and Lloyd-Pack’s “Trigger” was an absolutely vital part of the ensemble that made that show so brilliant – and it was epically good at times rising to heights of utter genius. Of course he was in loads of other stuff like “Harry Potter” and “Dr Who” but for me he shall always be the bumbling Peckham street-cleaner. I think we forget too easily that whilst the show was centred on the antics of Del and Rodney the rest of them from Mike at the bar of the Nag’s Head to Denzil the scouse trucker, Grandad, Uncle Albert, Boycie, Marlene and all the rest of them really made the show and gave the central cast folks to spark off.

As I said, I grew up watching that and I still watch it. Trig is no longer in my memory but in the Sky (in every sense). He is the overhead one Dave or Watch or whatever. Perhaps the nearest to immortality we can get. His peerless deadpan shall not be forgotten as long as electromagnetism exists.

I don’t think I can embed this (it’s BBC) but just click

…and there is loads more.

Cooking with Nick Griffin

Yes, you heard it right. For my next trick I suspect it’ll have to be kite-surfing with the Dalai Lama.

Anyway, Nick Griffin, the now bankrupt leader of the BNP is presenting cookery shows on Youtube. I suppose it’s a bit like de-snagging LANs with Hitler. Or something. “Goering, you never told me this network was installed by a Herr Cohen!!!”. I digress and must move on because I have a 9am building a tokamak with Ant & Dec.

Anyway, here is the new Nigella in all his shambolic glory.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8_HThEYP2o&noredirect=1

Well, there are things to note. I can cook and a beef casserole is one of my “signature dishes”. OK, I’m not exactly Michel Roux Jr (who is a perfidious frog, obviously – despite being a UK citizen – and my Mum fancies him!) and Mr Griffin cooked this veritable feast upon an Aga which is of course Swedish and we don’t want those Scandies coming over here with their affordable, but unfathomable furniture and their raping and pillaging of Lindisfarne (Northumberland folk-rock *shudder*) and all that. I once saw a doc about a plumber of Pakistani origin who fixed Agas. He was making a mint out of deranged cougars in Surrey who thought the path to enlightenment required the boiler from the Great Eastern chugging away in their kitchen. Anyway this guy who was doing well (and fair play) branded himself as “The Aga Khan”. It amused me.

Please watch the whole thing if you can. It is long but hilarious in parts. Some of it didn’t exactly amuse me though such as Nicky wearing a “Help for Heroes” shirt. I wonder what the Gurkhas or the many other Commonwealth troops in our armed forces think of that? Or what women make of it or how anyone who isn’t a total moron takes his advice on the need to remove the foil from a stock cube? Well the last one is funny. As are some similar “Top Tips”…

Day of the Doctor.

It is today. It is a fixed point in time and space and I shall be there – or at least in Stockport (the Manchester tickets had gone) – to see the 50th anniversary show live in 3D in the cinema. Cool. I shall not be alone. This is being shown live in 94 countries in 1500 cinemas live. This has never been done before. My wife recently bought the 50th anniversary edition of Dr Who Magazine. It has a copy of the 1964 first anniversary edition of the mag which includes a letter from a reader saying that the Who was the best programme (don’t we call ‘em “shows” now) on either channel. How times change!

I should have bought a fez for the night. Fez’s are cool. There is nothing more but this…

When Two Twats Go to War.

Apparently Jezza and Piers have been feuding for 13 years.

Battle of the big-heads: Fisticuffs. Hissy fits. For 13 years, Jeremy Clarkson and Piers Morgan have waged a hilariously juvenile feud… and now it’s hit new depths

I would question the use of hilarious here for they are both epic bell-ends. As you can imagine it isn’t Oscar Wilde and James Whistler.

Apparently… Piers Morgan calls Jeremy Clarkson a ‘muscle-depleted Chihuahua’.

Ohh… man-bags at the ready. The only thing that needs to be depleted here is the uranium in the shells from the A-10 used to turn them into force-meat. Or how about this…

Round four: October 2003
The supersonic passenger jet Concorde makes its final scheduled flight for British Airways from New York to London. Among the celebrities onboard are, yes, Piers Morgan and Jeremy Clarkson.

Despite the fact that Clarkson has told other passengers that Morgan ‘is a little ****’ and he’s going to ‘punch his lights out,’ BA put Clarkson in the seat directly in front of Morgan. As Clarkson takes his seat he says, ‘Oh, ******* hell, I’ve got a **** behind me.’

‘And I’ve got one in front of me, too,’ Morgan replies. Further potty-mouthed badinage ensues and Morgan taunts Clarkson: ‘Come on big man, show me what you’ve got.’

Clarkson then tips a glass of water over Morgan, much to the amusement of fellow passengers, including Joan Collins and Jodie Kidd.

Later Clarkson calls Morgan while the latter is chauffeured back from Heathrow. ‘This is all getting very silly. Let’s put it behind us. Please,’ he says. But is the feud put behind them? Not for long.

I have seen such “hilarious” antics before on a flight. It was a budget airline from Prague to Manchester. Some lads in front of me decided to be generally obnoxious and ultimately staged a farting contest in a row just ahead of me and my wife. They were “telt” by the Flight attendants in no uncertain terms to pipe down or there would be a taxi with flashing blue lights to greet them at Ringway. They shut it because they were “proles” so bad behaviour isn’t “hilarious” unlike with “celebs” like Jezz and Piers. The Flight Attendents looked more like nightclub bouncers than “trolly dollies”.

Round five: March 2004
Morgan and Clarkson both attend the British Press Awards. A thoroughly refreshed Clarkson makes his way to the table where Morgan, who has just begun his TV career alongside editing the Daily Mirror, is sitting.

‘Now that you’re in my world of telly, I can tell you you’re ****,’ the Top Gear star remarks.

A heated conversation ensues, in which Morgan sees Frances Clarkson, staring daggers at him from her table. ‘Why does your wife always blame me for everything you do?’ he asks.

Clarkson is outraged. He swings a right hook at Morgan, followed by more blows, hitting Morgan’s temple and forehead.

The following day, Morgan tells reporters: ‘He then tried to headbutt me — missing my nose by about an inch. I think it’s fair to say he was a little inebriated. I’ve frankly taken worse batterings from my three-year-old son.’

Clarkson admits: ‘He’s won really. This is just one in a long line of clashes. We’ll have to kiss and make up.’

And there is much more “antics” between these two.

Apart from the simple fact they fight like girls if you or me had done this we’d have another appointment with the paddy wagon Indeed if you or me had done this we’d be accused in The Mail of “The sort of yobbery that is typical of ‘Broken Britain’” and not of “hilarious” japery.

For the record I used to find Clarkson May and that little fella’s antics amusing but he’s just become a pathetic self-parody of himself who has jumped more sharks than an Orlando water-park does in a season. I mean how many ways can the Top Gear lads wreck a caravan – again. Morgan is though just a total and utterly irredeemably unmitigated cunt of the very first water.

But when two such “characters” go to war you don’t pray for a victory, you pray for a bipartisan dual smiting in the Biblical sense.

And you also wonder at the Mail thinking this light-hearted hi-jinks. I suppose because neither are Rommanians coming over here to get a job in Burger King.

The Daily Mail are deranged gits as well. The great myth of many that immigrants are a “burden” perplexes me but that’s for another post. I’d much rather have a Bulgarian nurse and a Romanian waitress over here than Jezza and Piers. I doubt though Sofia or Bucharest would play swapsies. I wouldn’t.

Morrissey, the consumer monkey.

Both the Mash and the Guardian (!) have both kicked Mozzer.

Excellent stuff.

From the Mash…

“On The Smiths re-forming, he writes: “Work with those trio of twats? Sod that. Mike Joyce has still got my belt sander and he bleeding well knows it.”

Morrissey never had a belt-sander. Does he look like the kinda guy who even has a set of screwdrivers? Does he fuck! If you want a shelf putting-up ask me, ask your Dad but don’t ask Mozzer. He will recoil in horror because you have cheese in the fridge. And then write a dreadful song about it.

The Guardian has this (but read the whole thing, like the whole Mash article)…

Sod Morrissey, a bitter, old hasbeen who a couple of years ago told the Guardian that “it’s a relief to feel relaxed in more places than just one” (he has homes in Los Angeles, Rome, Switzerland and Britain) and who called the Chinese a “subspecies” for their treatment of animals.

The class that he now represents – a middle-aged, capital-rich, metropolitan elite – doesn’t give a toss about you. They’ve proved it in every way it is possible to prove.

Like HS2, like windmills, like all the rest? Yup. Mozzer is the ultimate last twat up the ladder onto the Zeppelin and laughing self-righteously as he does it. He is the “Last of the international playboys”. He is a complete and utter wanker.

The Guardian article goes on to witter on about how 40-something white males are Mozzer’s last fans. Well, speaking as a 40 year old white male I never liked him when I was 15. Oh, there were Smiths fans at my school but they were all professional miserablists like Mozzer himself.

I prefer Blondie.

A tale of two passengers.

I have flown from Malta to Manchester. I can’t say it was a great experience. Flying very rarely is these days but fortunately I wasn’t on the plane with this tosser. Please read the whole thing – it’s mind-bending. Here is a taste…

A drunken jet passenger was tasered by police after stripping naked on the airport tarmac – and challenging the captain to a fight.

The 52-year-old man, who had arrived in Manchester on an easyJet flight from Malta, also urinated up the side of the Terminal One building.

Video taken of the amazing incident shows the burly, bald man removing his clothes on the runway apron and posturing at the captain – before receiving a slap across the face from his female companion.

Almost makes you wish for the days of Paul Temple on flying boats with wicker chairs and a G&T served just right.

Apparently the gentleman in question has been arrested on the grounds of being suspected of being “drunk and disorderly”. I hope the magistrate doesn’t feel the need to consider this one for too long.

On the other hand this is a brilliant story.

Why I hate the Daily Mail.

Well, the Miliband stuff is beyond anyone’s pale.

I disagree with Ed Miliband on much but there is a hop, skip and jump between that and the virtual grave-robbing they’ve done recently.

But that (vile though it is) is not the real reason. The real reasons are the comments section called [out of their] Right Minds. It’s like a mirror image of the Guardian’s Comment is Free.

But nah, it ain’t even that. Nor is it the obsession with house prices (like the cost of a basic essential going-up is like a good thing?) or their idea that the entire population of Bulgaria is going to sell children to peadophiles in Midsommer next Thursday.

No. It is (and I have previously mentioned this) the right sidebar called “Femail”. Now apart from the name being hideously cute like a kitten that has just puked on a Persian rug it is (very) soft porn whilst the main editorial rants and raves about porn as though it were the work of Satan himself. The hypocrisy is risible in it’s obviousness. I have seen “Femail” sidebar stories trumpeting some starlet’s weight loss post-partum to size 6 (UK) next to polemics against the “media” (which clearly doesn’t include the Mail) for encouraging eating disorders in kids. Or some rant or rave about binge drinking or whatever next to some pic of some X-Factor wannabe falling out of her dress (and a nightclub) simultaneously.

But the Miliband thing is a shark-jump.

I wouldn’t wipe my arse with the Mail – even if I were Venezuelan.

And this is not because I like Ed Miliband. It is because this is plain nasty. If I disagree with the leader of the opposition I shall so and why. I won’t go after his dead father.

And this is the same paper that has campaigned for mandatory IP porn filters that you have to opt out of to protect the kids. But when it gets called on this dreadful stunt starts wibbling about “press freedom”. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying the paper ought to have been banned. I’m not saying they ought to be censored (or whatever) but… If they have the right to offend (and they do) then I have the right to be offended. By their grossness over the late Mr Miliband and their serial set of double standards that makes Dr Erwin Schrödinger’s moggie know whether it is coming or going.

Oh, and their football coverage is shite. Their coverage of WAGs (and their handbags that cost more than my wife’s car) on the otherhand…

I puked all night.

X Factor

I saw that on Sunday and was nearly shocked.

I knew it was a pile of fetid baboon livers but it’s now so far beyond the pale it ought to have kicked the bucket (though apparently ratings are up!).

Amongst the travesties were a deranged Anglo-Jamaican woman who dressed like the Pyongyang Poundland’s Lady Gaga after a night on absinthe, sang like a cat spay-a-thon and murdered a sort of Bob Marley medley. No woman, I cried. Fuck me! She got through. I assume they are keeping her for comedy value. See below.

There was also a fat bloke from Nottingham. He could sing OK but was halted before he could finish by Gary Barlow raising his arm like a Caesar. The rest of the panel left him with nowt but his eyes to weep with – which he did. Poor sod.

There were also two sets of three lads doing harmonies (and possibly “doing” a clearly “tenting” Louis Walsh who is not only so far off his fucking rocker so as to be only an acorn from the Yewtree Memorial Laughing Academy).

They were clearly the ringers.

Then there was a lass who belted out “I Drove All Night” in the club-singer fashion. Barlow again raised the Hand of Doom and asked her to sing something “more contemporary” which she did seamlessly. The “old” tune being there only to add to the “dramatic tension”. She went through, obviously.

But everyone involved referred to the song as a Sealion Dion number (a North Atlantic mammal who swam all night to try to save the wreck of the Titanic)*.

And I mean everyone. This is the real history of the song…

“I Drove All Night” is a song written by Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly and made famous by Cyndi Lauper. The song was originally written for Roy Orbison, who recorded it in 1987, but his rendition was not released until 1992, after the song had become a top 10 hit on both sides of the Atlantic for Cyndi Lauper in 1989. The song has been covered by Pinmonkey (2002), Celine Dion (2003), and The Protomen (2012).

Yeah, that’s a “Celine Dion” song, OK.

Need I add that there were baying mobs? Anyway, I like that song and for those interested this is Roy Orbison’s version and this is Cyndi Lauper’s. This is Celine Dion’s.

I neither know nor care about the version banged out by the bloody Butlin’s singer.

Make your own mind up. But to call it a “Celine Dion Song” is taking more piss than a tannery.

And I have seen the endless skies of America with a lover in one (Honda) Accord. We once drove all night – until we got to a Subway, and a Motel. Then we stopped and dear reader… Ate sandwiches in nowhere Alabama, watched “Grease II” on cable and…

Well, we were glad to get out of New Orleans is all.

*A terrible film only mitigated by Leonardo DiCaprio slipping into the inky Abyss in a scene one would need a heart of stone not to laugh at.

ALERTS to Threats in Europe — 2013

Comment at Objectivist Living:

ALERTS TO THREATS IN 2013 EUROPE

The English are feeling the pinch in relation to recent events in Syria and have therefore raised their security level from “Miffed” to “Peeved.” Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to “Irritated” or even “A Bit Cross.” The English have not been “A Bit Cross” since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies nearly ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from “Tiresome” to “A Bloody Nuisance.” The last time the British issued a “Bloody Nuisance” warning level was in 1588, when threatened by the Spanish Armada.

The Scots have raised their threat level from “Pissed Off” to “Let’s get the Bastards.” They don’t have any other levels. This is the reason they have been used on the front line of the British army for the last 300 years.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from “Run” to “Hide.” The only two higher levels in France are “Collaborate” and “Surrender.” The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France ‘s white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country’s military capability.

Italy has increased the alert level from “Shout Loudly and Excitedly” to “Elaborate Military Posturing.” Two more levels remain: “Ineffective Combat Operations” and “Change Sides.”

The Germans have increased their alert state from “Disdainful Arrogance” to “Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs.” They also have two higher levels: “Invade a Neighbour” and “Lose.”

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual; the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels ..

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Australia, meanwhile, has raised its security level from “No worries” to “She’ll be right, Mate.” Two more escalation levels remain: “Crikey! I think we’ll need to cancel the Barbie this weekend!” and “The Barbie is cancelled.” So far no situation has ever warranted use of the last final escalation level.

Regards,
British writer, actor and tall person

And as a final thought – Greece is collapsing, the Iranians are getting aggressive, and Rome is in disarray. Welcome back to 430 BC.
Life is too short…

Commenter is unsure, but thinks the author may have been John Cleese.

Lord Melvin of the Bouffant

A couple of nights ago Our Beloved Lord of the BBC Round Buffet Table (of the Free Drinkies and Nibbles), Lord Melvin of the Laboratoire Garnier (because he isn’t worth it) was asked about the “bedroom tax” on the early evening “entertainment” creature called “The One Show” on the BBC and he wrinkled his erudite brow – for he is an intellectual* unlike you or me.

Oh, he was upset. He believed that the government ought to stay out of people’s homes (unless it is to build HS2 which means he gets to his “Beloved Lake District” ever so slightly quicker whilst fantasising about shagging a young Dervla Kirwan** along the way.

Melvin Bragg was upset…

smallest-violin

Housing benefit is an unholy mess of course but this is not the time to go into that viper’s nest which reflects on the British obsession with the ownership of domestic property*** and many other things. But, a reduction in a benefit is never a tax. It may be a bad thing but call it what it is – a reduction in benefits, not a tax. It reminds me of a Green a while back talking of a government “subsidy” to airlines on fuel. What he meant was not that aviation kerosine was actually subsidised as such (it isn’t) but that it wasn’t taxed. Now why might that be? Now you can’t hop into your Ford Focus and fill ‘er up in France that easily but a 737… That is the whole point of flying – to make geography history. If only our finkers and tinkers (and tinkerers) could get up to speed on stuff like that. I mean maybe they need nearly 110 years of controllable, fixed wing aviation to get it… Oh, wait! Been done hasn’t it? Anyway, to conflate tax and benefits like this is a tacit belief in the “pocket-money nation” in which all monies really belong to the state apart from the “allowances” which are “given” to spend off our own bats (and obviously to spend as is seen fit in order to desperately try and re-inflate an insane consumer bubble economy – or else). It must be so nice for the proles to have a coupla quid on the hip. It’s like “voluntary” NICO contributions for the self-employed. “Voluntary” in this context really doesn’t fit with what it says in my wife’s OED or my Websters. Aren’t those two tomes suppossed to be the ultimate repository of the English Language? Try telling that to some fucker kicking your door in at 4am.

At a deeper level the minute you allow government to interfere with housing market then Lord Bragg, The Quiff Pursuivant then you are allowing them into people’s homes. Obviously.

Or maybe he’s just too busy wanking himself into a coma over fantastic dalliances with pretty girls a third (at best) his age in a field with commanding views of Derwent Water. Fine enough I guess (if a bit pathetic) on his own shilling. Anyway I digress…

(Sorry, thinking of Ms Kirwan, again – who is BTW two years older than me. Well fit in that train-wreck of a Dr Who Christmas Special a bit back. Good stuff which failed to gel.)

Anyway, the main point. Lord Bragg of Hair Product (you could launch a Harrier Jet (if we still had ‘em) off his cranial dead wombat) said he (he looked like he was about to weep the tears of the crocodile into his last freebee canape – I mean that bad – poor soul – how he has suffered!)…

I mean he Ronald Pickup (seriously!) couldn’t even afford a spare room for his inamorata and had to “do it” on a hill-side. That was the excorable “A Time to Dance” where Mr Pickup stood in for the Braggster in the role of “Randy Old Git #1″.

Enough Nick!

Anyway, the deeply intellectual Lord Bragg of “Presenting a show on ITV that nobody watches but means ITV can claim to do the Arts” was “viscerally” upset by this policy decision. He then apologised and said what he meant was he, “Felt it in his gut”.

Because us peasantry – presumably including the folk on housing bennies – wouldn’t understand “visceral”. Now I may have gone to an ever so ‘umble (fuck that!) Comp in Gateshead but fuck you Lord Bragg and the cunting unicorn you rode down from your cloud on. What really got me is that he wasn’t prompted but autonomously and automatically felt the need to apologise for using a “difficult” word becuse he is so clever and those he (literally) Lords it over are, to him, not. It was the assumption that made me want to forget my education and resort to the demotic (that’s classical too!) Anglo-Saxon and see visions of blood-cured battle-axes and flaming brands and other things too dreadful to state.

Make no mistake. From Prince Charles to Lord Bragg they think of us as pets at best. The simple fact that Lord Bragg of Twatbuggery felt he couldn’t use the word “visceral” to the plebs says it all. He’s not used to BBC1 – bless. Perhaps he ought to be put out to grass on a reservation on BBC4 with Jonathon Miller****.

Seriously though it is like something from Plato. These are the “Children of Gold” (not that they are looking that young mind) who love the poor just as long as they don’t have to stand too close to ‘em. Abject poverty to them means flying business class. We are their play things. I had Lego as a kid and bricks don’t mind if they get turned into a space-ship or an oil platform or a land dreadnought or whatever. I have rendered things in lego and clay and paint and code and all the rest. Never people. The arrogance is stunning. I’d go so far as to suggest that they only get away with it because it is so stunning you don’t notice it in exactly the same way you affect not to notice a naked 7′ Zulu warrior with an asagai and a 12″ semi on your commuter train of the morning. He might also have some beads mind and one of the deluded middle-aged ladies might ask if they were Fairtrade because her niece’s birthday was coming-up…

She’d be trying hard not to look at the cock mind.

And failing.

Most fun she’d never had since she didn’t inhale a Clinton during the Vietnam War.

Do anything you want, Mel & Chums, but don’t patronise me or I might liberate some artifacts from Prague Castle and then Your Lordship you might discover a true “gut-feeling” of what “visceral” really means.

PS. This is exactly the same bollocks that keeps alive the idea that Shakespeare couldn’t possibly have written Shakespeare because William was a grammer-school boy from the relative sticks. It must surely have been an aristo and not some young lad charging a groat to stand in the “shouty end” with a flagon of ale and a dubious pie to hurl at the cast if they fluff their lines. The greatest dramas of all time were staged without an Arts Council grant – get over it. Or get a pie in the mush!

*Or given the barnet he looks like an “ageing Ted with a masturbator’s pallor”. I owe that phrase to Mr Smarting Anus who also “Wanks Higher than any in Wome” and is usually more full of shi’ite than a mosque in Qom.
**BBC – A Time to Dance. If that wasn’t taken straight from the Braggadocio’s self-abuse notes then call me a Belgian.
***A massive issue. Forgive me for skirting this here because I’m in danger of “Old toffees blogging”. You know what toffee is like after it has been left out for a couple of days? You pick one up and the rest comes along with it…
****I have a cruel and unusual punishment for Miller. He must speak for a full two minutes without using the word “paradox”. If he manages that then Matron will give him his Horlicks and not spank his botty. Though he’d probs like that. Depending on the Matron so might I but not Horlicks! I mean if it was Kylie, say…

Back in Britain.

I have been back in Britain a few days (it feels like years), my impressions are….

“Evening Standard” on the late night-early morning train from the airport.

Weird article attacking “golf club Nazis” (for such clearly Nazi things as likeing Monty Python – no the article made no sense to me either). I have now remembered that this article was supposed to prove that “Citizenship” classes-tests should teach immigrants how to claim government benefits.  No I do not know why that is supposed to be a good (not a bad) thing  – or what it has got to do with Monty Python.

Odd letters to the editor saying they supported the government’s policy of reducing state spending (what reduction in state spending?) but wanted more spending on X, Y, Z – such as railways to places which already have railways going to them.

A big article on the “living wage” idea, which showed no idea of what a labour market is – and how trying to increase wages (with no increase in productivity) can only increase unemployment. But quoted various “leading conservatives” as being in support of the “living wage” concept, as a way of fighting the multinational corporations (why would a conservative want to do that?).

And an article by Mr Cameron on “keeping the spirit of the games alive” – but I could not bring myself to read it.

Back in Kettering told that Holocaust memorial day was used as an excuse for death-to-Israel speeches (killing six million Jews in the 1940s was wrong – but killing another six million Jews now would be good, because Jews are Nazis or something…. a bit like the golf club people?).

Visit London – go round bookshops. Leftist books are the ones pushed forward (on bits of board) or turned to face the customers. Pro free market books very rare in the London bookshops anyway. Do the shareholders in Waterstones, W.H. Smiths, and Foyles know that the staff (including the managers?) want them robbed and murdered?

And why do people employed in comfortable bookshops hate “capitalists” and “capitalism” anyway (it is something to do with the shareholders likeing Monty Python? or are they Jews? or perhaps they play golf?). Anyway the people in London appear to be very prosperious – try to force down “credit bubble city” thoughts….

Lots of students – perhaps this “education” thing explains a lot…..

Try to see the film “Zero Dark Thirty” in Kettering – but it is only on late at night in the cinema. So they can say that there is not much call for it? Something I have noticed before with non P.C. films – they are either not shown at all in the local cinema, or they are shown only once a day and an irritating time.

Notice that leftist newspapers (such as the “I”) still have special stands at the local supermarket or (like the ultra Keynesian “Financial Times”) are raised on boards to make them more visible than other newspapers. Why?

Leftist magazines also still pushed and non leftist ones not. Even “Time” magazine (which is not even a British magazine and has no British news in it) put in favoured position – for no reason.

British television and radio news (and television and radio comedy) scream, gag, slump to floor…….

Oh yes – I almost forgot…..

Hour long speech (loud enough to be a speech anyway) on the train to London from a young person who worked in the Cabinet Office (amongst other places) about how he went to see Barack Obama sworn in again – and had the words “Barack Obama” written into his flesh. Supposedly Comrade Barack is a great leader for “our people” (the gentleman had an English accent) and lots of words about Barack Obama’s skin colour (which was the same as that of the person giving the speech).

Does this chap understand that he is a racist? Or does he have some some sort of Frankfurt School way out of basic logic?

Anyway his friends seemed most impressed by his words. And he did make a couple of references to things other than Mr Obama’s skin colour. For example the importance of “networking” to gain money from the state (I suppose the word “networking” is a word that modern people use for “corrupt influence”) and how much money (1.2 million) a friend of his had raised for the Obama campaign.

Oh, of course, also how people joined the “public sector” to “help people”. The young gentleman was expensively dressed – so clearly the “public sector” (the taxpayers) have helped him, and his “networking friends”.

Lard of the Glen.

Apparently a consignment of lard has washed-up in Scotland.

Storms over the east coast have resulted in several unusual relics from World War II washing up on an Angus beach.

Staff at St Cyrus nature reserve said four large, barrel-shaped pieces of lard have appeared on the shore.

The fat is believed to have escaped from the wreck of a merchant vessel that was bombed in WW II.

Scottish Natural Heritage said the lard was still a brilliant white and smelled “good enough to have a fry up with.

Only in Scotland could they elect celebrate…

A washed-up tub of lard.

A washed-up tub of lard.

Angus McHardy [who might just be Scottish], a local resident and retired fisherman, said he remembers similar events in the in early 1940s.

“I’d never seen anything like it,” he said. “There was quite a lot washed up at St Cyrus and beyond, not quite to Montrose.”

“Some barrels were complete and others were just lumps. People collected it. My grandma boiled it up to get the sand out. It was great because we couldn’t get fat during the war.”

He added: “After a storm in the late 60s or early 70s, the lard came up on-shore again. The seagulls thought it was a bonanza.”

Scotland has found a seemingly inexhaustible supply of saturated fats. The First Minister must be delighted. The Hell with North Sea oil when Scotland can lay claim to fat deposits that would put Überwald to shame.

Does this mean the Scottish people will re-elect…

Alex Salmond

Alex Salmond

…despite the best nannying efforts of Ms Sturgeon (why are these Scottish pols so fishy?) to nanny and coerce the population into “health”?

And I speak as someone who has had a lunch of deep-fried cheese washed down with an excellent beer in the Czech Republic.

Scrumpy

RAB’s posting below, with it’s prominent promotion of scrumpy, reminds me of the first time I ever had the pleasure of scoffing the stuff.

It was in about 1981, I was newly arrived in England and was still in sightseeing mode. One Sunday afternoon I went up to the British Museum to have a captains, and called in to the pub opposite, the Museum Tavern, to have lunch before I went on my troll through humanities past.

Well, wasn’t that a mistake. I ordered a steak and kidney pud to fill the void, and I saw a chalked sign advertising scrumpy. Now, I had heard of scrumpy, but I had never had any so I thought this was an opportunity. It was sweet, a bit like dilluted applejuice but with a bit of a bite, and it went down as easily as lemonade. I downed a pint while I was waiting for lunch, so when the pud was delivered I ordered another pint, and downed that while eating. When the food was done and gone I ordered another half pint, not wanting to overdo it, finished that off, and started museumward…..

Then it hit me. I wandered the museum in an alcoholic haze for about 30 minutes, but I really wasn’t getting much out of it. It was a beautiful afternoon, early in the English summer, and taking it easy and relaxing somewhere became my preference, so I left and went to sit under a tree in Bloomsbury Square.

Fell asleep of course.

Great Sunday afternoon that.

One cunt born every minute…

Yesterday afternoon I took my new(ish) Flymo Sabre hedge-hacker for a trip out. It is a beast. I really quite like it. I did the hedges in “my garden”*. Given the weather over the summer this was a big job but with my vicious new toy I decided to also trim a seriously over-grown footpath just by he house that is arguably either our, the local church or the council’s remit (and the council are about as much use as a chocolate teapot – they paint around pot-holes in the road and then do nothing – at one point four of the blighters drove all the way from Macclesfield to ring in paint one pothole and then did a Keyser Söze). The hacking needed to be done anyway and I had the means so I gave it the sort of haircut only the USMC gives to recruits. It was becoming a tunnel if you see what I mean. So, I ask my wife about the whole trimming thing both there and on our gaff because I want a second opinion (a bit much there, perhaps more needed here, you know the sort of thing). I mean it’s tricky to assay when stuff is going everywhere.

So I’m in my garden talking to her when some prod-nosed cunt mooches around and starts telling me off for what I had left on the footpath. And you know what? The fucker comes onto private property (not mine but as warden obviously It’s kinda my domain and it certainly isn’t his) and starts gobbing it off about the mess I have created. Now he doesn’t accuse me directly of this sin but says, “someone did it”. That raised my hackles. If someone is prepared to come onto the gaff I look after and give me evils without directly stating it they are a cunt so low they leave snail-tracks everywhere they creep on their raggedy claws in my book.

Now if I’d done this on Thursday and left it overnight fair enough from him. I had though done this about thirty minutes before and then did the rest of the lane (the council grit box was looking like the lost temples of Ankor Wat) and I had taken the idea to do the cutting first and then the clearing as the most efficient way of doing the job. This numpty arse-bugler who mistakes rabbit tods for aniseed balls simply didn’t think that certain jobs take time (not a lot of time as I hinted). But I didn’t do it Thursday. I did it half an hour before and had other cutting to do before the picking-up the total gap between me doing the path and picking-up was under an hour). He never even guessed that I’d clear-up which (with my wife) I always knew I was going to do. He just assumed. Possibly he had decided to write an outraged letter to the Daily Mail.

Subsequently my wife and I tidied (as always planned) the path. This was actually a priority because I know a lot of dog-walkers use it and a load of holly and nettles is not good for paws. Oddly enough whilst doing that a couple of dog-walkers ambled past and praised my work. It was terribly overgrown due to our tropical summer. So much improved in under an hour. Maybe if I’d worn a high-viz coat and was like “official” or something he’d have been OK but no. After a brief harangue (in my own garden that he had entered without my let) I uttered the only words in the English language that covered my outrage at someone criticizing me (indirectly, recall – that really got my goat, tied it to a post and then buggered it senseless) for doing a good thing.

Dear reader, in the end, I told him to fuck off. And he did fuck off. And so endeth the lesson.

And if he come round again he knows I have a Flymo Sabre and an intemperate disposition towards pigeon-chested abattoir-creepers like himself.

*It’s a big one and I am warden, not owner. Note also we have a stream and he didn’t cross it. There is a bridge but he harangued me from the other side. Wanker. He could have come over but didn’t. If there is a disagreement honour states it ought to be carried out at the range where it could end with agreement and a handshake or alternatively (this is sub-optimal) a shiv under the fifth rib.

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