Counting Cats in Zanzibar Rotating Header Image

Jumped the Shark

Turn Left…

That is a Dr Who ref, not a political one…

The KKK (you know those fun-lovers) have decided to embrace diversity…

The Ku Klux Klan opens its door to Jews, homosexuals and black people in bizarre recruitment drive
White supremacist group Ku Klux Klan is re-branding as ‘the new Klan’
Founder wants Jews, black people, gays and those of Hispanic origin to join
Rebranded ‘Rocky Mountain Knights’ claim to stand for ‘a strong America’
New recruits will have to wear the white robes, masks and conical hats

From the Mail.

I think this is either real or I am going mental.

No good deed ever goes unpunished…

Two church pastors and a 90-year-old man were charged for feeding homeless people in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, under a strict new city ordinance that virtually bans private groups from handing out food.

Yes, you read that right. In the Bible loins (below the Bible belt) it is very difficult to help the homeless off your own bat.

Despite a looming court date and the threat of being fined or jailed for violating the ordinance, the men said they plan to feed more needy later Wednesday.

Homeless activist Arnold Abbott, 90, and Christian ministers Dwayne Black of the Sanctuary Church in Fort Lauderdale and Mark Sims of St. Mary Magdalene Episcopal Church in Coral Springs were handing out meals in a park on Sunday, two days after Fort Lauderdale’s ordinance took effect, when police approached them with their sirens flashing, Black said. The three were issued citations and face a $500 fine or 60 days in jail.

So, why?

The ordinance — the fourth one that Fort Lauderdale has passed this year concerning the homeless — requires groups handing out food to homeless to be at least 500 feet away from residential properties. It limits feeding sites for homeless to one in any given city block, and prevent feeding sites from being within 500 feet of each other.

Ah, property prices! The Golden Calf of our generation. A clear example of wishing the homeless, the destitute and generally undesirable away from the shining citadels. There is of course another reason which I shall get to later.

Black said the threat of police charging them again won’t stop him and Abbott, who runs a non-profit organization called Feed Thy Neighbor, from handing out meals on a public beach Wednesday evening.

“As a Christian, it’s pretty clear,” he said. “Feed thy sheep. Take care of them.”

Fort Lauderdale police said they were aware of Black and Abbott’s plans, and said they had clashed with Abbott before.

Don’t they have murderers, rapists, burglars and such to deal with without nicking a 90 year old man and a couple of pastors for trying to help the interstitial?

Legislative action criminalizing the distribution of food to homeless people is picking up speed across the U.S. More than 30 cities have passed or are considering such bans, with advocates arguing that allowing ministries and others to hand out meals aggravates homelessness by luring homeless people away from city-run programs.

See what I mean by “interstitial”? These are folks who walk between the raindrops of government provision. Mr Abbott and his friends are doing an unalloyed good. What the authorities hate more than anything is singular acts of kindness that aren’t regulated and controlled by them. The fact that people are acting directly to help the utterly potless matters not a jot to them. I mean for the sake of God himself how the fuck can giving food to the poorest of the poor off one’s own bat be a crime? Of course it is if it shows up the dismal state provision for the sham it is and if it depresses house prices* for those who can afford a house. Talk about “I’m alright Jack” and pulling up the last ladder on the Zeppelin and twirling your mustache and cackling.

For myself I am disgusted that this is happening in a state I know well (from Panhandle to Key West) which I always found friendly and quite Christian. There is nothing Christian about this law. Surely, by any stretch of the imagination on a public beach giving away food isn’t wrong. It may be illegal now but legality is not the same as right or wrong. A naive person like me would regard a public place as somewhere you can do what you want (within reasonable law) but you decide to commit an act of charity there you find out who really owns it and it ain’t the people is it?

This is a fundamental libertarian issue. It is a marriage made in Hell between the house price fetishists and the statists – or modern politics as it’s otherwise known. It is hideous.

It is wrong. When charity can no longer be spontaneous we have lost something too precious to be measured.

All quotes from NBC but it’s been all over the ‘net.

*I seem to recall one of the major causes of the Great Depression of the ’30s being kicked off by a Florida housing bubble.

Modern Art & Godzilla’s Butt-Plug

Now, don’t call me old fashioned here. I am a liberal kinda guy butt (ho ho!) this shocked me…

This is Paul McCarthy’s “sculpture” “Tree” exhibited (this stuff writes itself) in France. The only reason I spotted that was I first misread the link as “Paul McCartney’s butt-plug in Paris”.

Anyway, it lacks any artistic merit other than the capacity to shock. Now, I note I said I was shocked but not in the way Paul McCarthy meant. It isn’t “challenging”, it’s just dreadful. It’s shocking in a way because it is so boring.

Marcel Duchamp produced “challenging” art a hundred years ago and some of it was quite clever. This is more sh’ite than an Ayatollah. Things that I am specifically interested in such as maths, physics, aviation and computing have made tremendous advances in the last 100 years but art seems stuck in a rut of childish petulance where you can win a Turner Prize (God knows what Turner would make of it) for puking into a jiffy bag and mailing it to The Pope.

So, this “installation” was vandalized by outraged Parisians and whilst I deplore vandalism I can kinda see where they were coming from. Oddly enough the first Dada exhibition actually provided a hammer for visitors to smash the exhibits. That was new and dappy and kinda cool back then. It has now become very serious. It has caused Mr McCarthy to do this…

McCarthy decided against re-erecting the Tree, which was deflated by security officials, and has instead planned an artistic response. Paris Mint spokesman Guillaume Robic said the chocolate factory was already up and running and had been producing 250 chocolate Father Christmas figurines, each with a butt plug, each day for the past few days. Eleven rooms where the figurines are stocked have been made dark to resemble a long tunnel. Visitors will be able to move through the halls, where there will be a strong smell of chocolate, and where a video and “aggressive sounds” will be playing. “It’s a dream, or a nightmare,” Robic said. “It reflects the aggressiveness that McCarthy felt after what happened in the Place Vendôme.”

The chocolate factory – a reproduction of a 2007 installation by McCarthy in New York – is operated by pastry makers who have been trained to perform by McCarthy.

Alas dear reader you can’t expect a butt-plugged choccy-wocky Santa in your Christmas box for they go on sale in January.

I shall re-iterate I am not a philistine and I like some modern art but what really shocks me is the capacity of these folk to get away with shock for the sake of shock. More than that the capacity of certain people to fall for it. I mean it isn’t shocking in the way intended. I mean you can buy a butt-plug in Anne Summer’s on Market Street in Manchester. There is nothing shocking about McCarthy other than he is considered shocking, provocative, challenging etc which he isn’t any more than a small child having their tenth tantrum of the day.

I might go out with my watercolours and paint landscapes of the Peak District. Now that would flummox the critics.

But before I go… I have to mention the “comedian” Jimmy Carr who apparently at a music awards do recently made some off-colour remarks about Oscar Pistorius. Oh, they were edgy! They just weren’t funny. To commandeer a phrase from the Duke of Wellington, “In comedy there is no substitute for being funny”.

Like Paul McCarthy (with his admittedly hilarious strop on (or should that be strap-on?)) Jimmy Carr has jumped so many sharks he ought to be working at Sea World.

It is the same thing. I am not offended except by the fact I am expected to take offence. If your only trick is to offend the Daily Mail and Nick ain’t leaping at the bait I couldn’t give a…

…I could have used some “bad words” there but what is the point?

I mean these are people who shouldn’t get a fuck in a monkey whore-house with a truck-load of bananas.

Dumb Terrorists of the week…

From The Guardian

Two men accused of being involved in a terrorist plot in London were covertly recorded as they apparently prepared to buy a firearm, the Old Bailey has heard.

A listening device in their car recorded them using the codewords “sausage” and “sauce” to describe items they planned to purchase, the jury was told.

Their intentions appeared to become clear, however, when one of the men, Mounir Rarmoul-Bouhadjar, asked: “What’s the sausage?” His alleged accomplice Erol Incedal replied: “Bullets.”

One of them had been a-jihadi-ing in Syria. They were clearly on the radar but if you can’t remember a code consisting of two words…

It reminds me of a bunch of Hamas-types who blew themselves with a car-bomb because they refused to live on “Zionist Time”. Fortunately they were in the middle of nowhere.

It took the IDF etc a while to figure that one. Well, it would wouldn’t it?

Quote of the Conference.

UKIP defectors are the sort of people who have sex with vacuum cleaners’:

Boris Johnson

He didn’t put it quite as boldly as that, as you can see from the article, but that is certainly what he meant. I love the Conference season, don’t you? So full of deep incisive analysis.

Methinks the Tories are very rattled at this point. Smile

Craven

The retailer of “naughty things” Ann Summers has apologized over a lingerie range named “Isis”

Knickers

Not to be confused with…

Twat

London (AFP) – Adult retailer Ann Summers apologized Saturday after launching a range of lingerie named Isis — but said it did not support jihadists in Iraq and Syria and had no plans to withdraw the line.

Well, that last bit is reassuring. Not, I suspect, that Ann Summers would be especially welcome in the New Caliphate anyhow. But why apologize? An Ann Summers spokeswoman stated the decision had been made months ago and Isis is an ancient Egyptian fertility goddess which seems a fairly reasonable name for female intimate attire. I mean it’s not something a lady would wear to play football in is it*?

It remains on sale which is something, though why apologize anyway? It is admitting that “ISIS” (or “IS”) have stolen part of our culture and mythology. It is bizarrely conflating something to cover your er… with a bunch of arseholes. And that is my point, really. Are ISIS vile? Are they dangerous? Yes. Are they the greatest threat facing the USA as President Obama recently stated? Are they Hell! They are just a bunch of ragged-assed renegades on the create. They ought to be treated with the disdain they deserve and not treated like Sith Lords. By regarding them as Mordor itself we are their best recruiting sergeants because it gives spurious glamour to a collection of honour-free tossers playing at jihad.

As an aside they are currently carrying out “judicial” executions, crucifixions and amputations and “encouraging” children to watch (like Alton Towers in the sand). Of course they would regard the ladies pictured above as depraved. I have a rather different standard for depravity.

On the plus side I am reliably informed that Russia has banned such frivolous under-garments on spurious grounds of causing minge-rot or something so it would seem we are annoying the right people.

Pooty Poot and the Sand People – sounds like a dreadful band from the ’50s.

*No I haven’t seen that video. Curse you internet!!!

The Gazza Strip.

Apparently Twitter users have been confusing the drunkard former England footballer Paul “Gazza” Gascoigne with Gaza the place.

Maybe it is just me and I, like Gazza am from Gateshead, not Gaza but this tickles me.

Fans of former England footballer Paul Gascoigne, popularly known as ‘Gazza’, were left confused and fearing for his future as a Free Gaza campaign took off online.

Tweets with the hashtag #freegaza have been trending on Twitter in response to the violence in the Middle East, with users using their posts to urge Israeli forces to stop their assault on the Gaza Strip. The conflict, which started on July 8, has led to the deaths of more than 1,200 people.

But followers of the troubled player, who has become known for his battles with alcohol and drugs, mistakenly thought that he had been arrested and that the campaign was in support of his freedom.

And…

Pignorance has no end.

Back in the land of the living…

I am with Sky for most everything – net, TV, landline… Now the modem/router has been “on the blink”* for sometime and finally joined the digital choir invisible on Saturday. So I’d got a TP-Link replacement. Top-notch piece of kit. Think fine – set it up – 198.162.0.1 and all that – easy as falling off a log. Except I tried everything short consorting with wiser heads and virgin sacrifice**.

It turns out – and at no point did Sky or TP-Link make this clear that Skynet** only works with Sky modem/routers. And I’d spoken to Sky and they’d only told me to get a new gizmo – they didn’t tell me it had to be a Sky one! It was only later when my wife howled at them they said, “Er…” So had to buy one from them. I had originally thought they might replace their hardware buckshee but we seem these days to live in the land of negative customer loyalty. I mean they offer reduced deals for some months to new customers but if you have been with ‘em for years they couldn’t give a toss. I don’t like that. And they are all at it. BT, TalkTalk and all the rest of ‘em.

So, I’m back online. Thank the Gods of TCP/IP!

If anyone in the UK needs to buy a pretty high-spec wifi modem/router which is really nearly new then I am your man.

But being de-netted was dreadful. It was almost like being dead. It was like I kept on thinking things like, “There’s gotta be a solution online”. Then, “Oh bugger!”. It was like having a Speccy without a tape recorder. And it was really pissing me of because of my recent getting of a new laptop (8Gb Lenovo S440 with a Core i5 CPU). I was peeved.

*a techie term meaning roughly, “Circling the drain in the House of the Fucked”.

**Problem is round here there is no way to find three wise men and a virgin so no second-coming for us.

***For that is what I call it.

Two Spoons and a Rusty Farming Implement…

Is this Britain’s most feckless father? Meet unemployed Peter Rolfe who has had 26 children by 15 women and says ‘it’s just unfortunate so many of them have fallen pregnant’

Apparently he has cost the UK GBP500,000 over the last 20 years in bennies. Well, I guess he has to buy a birthday present at least once a fortnight.

Now, as a married man with an A-level A-grade in biology women do not “fall pregnant”. It takes two to tango so to speak. Or 1+15 (15!) in his case. Let us have a look at this veritable Adonis of the Isle of Wight…

He’s not exactly George Clooney is he? They must be gagging for it in the Solent!

The Mail story quotes heavily from an up-coming (no pun intended) C5 doc about “Benefits Britain”. Now obviously they take the outliers (and outright liars) but is this really about bennies? There is something sicker underlying this. Now I am socially liberal but you can take something so far and this is taking the piss and vinegar. The total lack of any form of sexual morality or taking any responsibility for personal actions is shocking. Having sex with someone is an active choice. It is about agency and without agency we are mere flesh robots chained to our baser urges. Now I’m not saying this geezer who looks like the sort of department store Santa you wouldn’t let your kid near shouldn’t have an active sex-life but… in an age of cheap, widely available and reliable contraception… Anyway, he’s objecting to having a four bedroom house off the council and claiming he needs six bedrooms to house his… er… tribe. My wife and I live in a two bed house. She uses the second bedroom as an office. We also have a cat who sleeps where he pleases because he is a cat. Hell’s Teeth he’s neutered. Can we claim? I don’t want kids (never have), my wife is ditto and Timmy lacks the mandatory equipment. Nah! course not. But if the Isle of White Council wants to bung me expenses for a trip South then I’m up (never been around there). I can furnish my own two spoons and indeed the rusty farming implement. Plenty of them around here. We even have mole traps and they are technically on dodgy ground legally I think. Vicious things. Well capable of preventing #27. Or moles, obviously.

Crassology – Dixon style.

Last night I watched the final of “Britain’s got Talent” on ITV. It was primarily a collection of profound tosspottery. But this act stood out (even above the pro-mawk that was teenage rappers “Bars and Melody”. It was “Paddy and Nico”. An elderly British woman being chucked around the stage by her much younger Spanish dancing instructor – “Oh, young man!”. The act itself reminded of a Quote by TS Eliot along the lines of it being fascinating “If you concentrate on the essential horror”.

But that was not the point. Paddy, the geriatric hoofer, had almost missed the final due to some (clearly) minor injury and Alesha Dixon (one of the judges) praised her “courage” and explicitly compared it to the courage of the troops on D-Day. Epic fail.

So, doing a three minute dance routine is equivalent to charging Sword beach with a rifle at a German machine-gun nest? Alesha, get your dictionary out.

I dunno who won. Frankly I was past caring so put the footie on only to see England secure a goal-less draw against those titans of the game – Honduras. Yes, Honduras. When it comes to the real thing Italy are going to murder us and stack the bones in the shower before breakfast.

I did quite a lot of swearing at the telly last night. And yes, there is a literary ref there which I’d be interested if anyone knows. And I mean knows, not Googles.

More Evidence of the Decline

Used positive pregnancy tests can be found for sale all over the Internet, and as CBS 2’s Alice Gainer reported, those involved said people are snapping them up – with less-than-ethical motivations.

One mother from Dallas did not want her identity revealed, but she does want people to buy her positive pregnancy tests. She talked about one woman who took her up on the offer.

“She wanted to trick him into thinking she was pregnant, so he would drop everything so I gave her two tests,” the woman said.

Positive Pregnancy Tests Up For Sale Online

Offered without comment, simply as evidence of the further decline of Western civilisation. I’m known for being an opinionated swine, but this just left me speechless.

[Edit - CCiZ server can't cope with the video playback]

Kodachrome

I knew the song and I knew it was Paul Simon but I didn’t know the title. Which is odd because I know Kodachrome film very well. I’m now entirely digital but I still have a dear old Pentax so I’m more Sandisk than Kodak. Are Kodak bust? Actually I have a Kodak camera. 5MP from way back but still trogging on and great ergonomics – better than my current darling – a Sony Alpha 55. 10fps@16.1Mp – bring it!

Anyway, this is for Julie. Julie posted on Nedumaction recently so I thought I’d share some thoughts from my class-room experience. Now, I might be showing my age (I’m 40) but my “careers” lessons were a bad joke with a film-strip. Do you recall those? You get a projector, a moron and the strip. It is synched to a tape to provide the soundtrack and then it goes “Bong!” and you advance the frame. This is the theory (and by Jesus I know fucking ergodic theory and the bastarding disturbing function and if those parts of mathematical physics sound nails that is because they are). Alas we had Brian Edwards on the spool and he was thick as two short planks. His alleged day-trade was as a wood-work teacher but he was deemed too dense for that so he got the Set 1 careers gig instead and nawsed that up brilliantly. Now you have to imagine this in a high-pitched Geordie accent and by “high-pitched” I mean verging towards the end of the last cry of a less-than-aveargenaut going through a event horizon*. Now you’d think advancing a frame every time it went “Bong!” was fairly simple. Not to Mr Edwards. The quantity of huffing and puffing and (muted) swearing this veritable Manhatten Project of a gadget caused him is stuff of (local) legend, hence the phrase, “Eeeee, get out silly noise!” Fuck and all his pals know what he was doing to that poor machine. I don’t. Me and my mates just chuckled. He briefed us on our “Options” (choice of GCSEs) which was presented like it was the most important thing to plan since D-Day. He offered (and this is verbatim) this jewel of wisdom, “Eeee… man there is no point doing biology unless you want to be biology-ist”. Thicker than a whale burger.

Interlude: I was once summoned from an English class to see the Head. I was not a happy camper here and on the walk there I did the mental inventory of what they might have on me (I hadn’t. Well, quite the reverse actually). Wally Pearson, for that was his name, was chatting with kids to find out who to move to less strenuous duties said something that stunned me. He told me he believed that there were teachers at Ryton Comprehensive that were positively deleterious to education. Wow! I mean it was abundantly true but for the Head to say it to a 14-15 year old kid is Wow! Not what you expect the Head to say but there you go. I suspect Brian Edwards was near the top of that hit parade. Now Wally might have meant well but he talked the talk but either couldn’t or didn’t walk the walk. He promoted the head of Geography (who was a cad and bounder) to head of Sixth-form despite him having to have left previous schools in the area over “wandering hands” with Sixth Form girls. I know this for certain because my parents were teachers in the same LEA. Steve Brent was his name and apart from teaching geography and groping (and he allegedly did more than that) he also sold dodgy used cars from his drive. Dubious geezer if ever there was one. There were rumours of hushed-up private abortions performed on Sixth Formers. Making him head of Sixth Form was like giving George Best a bottle of single malt.

Anyway back to Brian Edwards (or “Satch” as we called him – Sod knows why). He wasn’t malicious or depraved like the aforementioned. He was just utterly, spectacularly, useless. Anyway, as I said, he taught careers for there was nothing more pointless to give him to do**. What I am going to say now I swear on the holiest of holies I am not making up.

Anyhoo. The film-strip was called “The Sponge Mix” (a shiticism that amused Satch greatly for no apparent reason but as I said we are not talking the wit and wisdom of Oscar Wilde or even Kim Wilde) and chronicled the adventures of school-leaver Neville Sponge on his quest to become a mastic asphalt spreader. I am not making this up.

Now the even odder thing is the intro song to the “Sponge Mix”. It was Paul Simon’s “Kodachrome” and it goes like this…

And the opening lyrics are…

When I think back
On all the crap I learned in high school
It’s a wonder
I can think at all
And though my lack of education
Hasn’t hurt me none
I can read the writing on the wall.

Careers lessons were an irony-laden zone. Now you have to imagine that along with Satch muttering as he fails to work a simple machine (and it was a projector, not a nuclear reactor) – “Eee, Man what’s up with you!”

Now it is not true I learned nowt at school but Dear Gods it was slow. Careers was a total wash-out (obviously), PSE was beyond a joke and RE was taught by a pair of atheists who between showing wild speculation about the Shroud of Turin wittered on about protesting the Vietnam War. What is more disturbing (because in the grand scheme of things none of those matter) is that out of a year group of c.180 only 5 of us got an A at Maths GCSE (this was well beforer A*). I was one but I didn’t know how few we were and thought myself mediocre at the subject. I disliked my maths teacher for the entirely bizarre reason that she looked like Zelda from “The Terrorhawks”. Well, I guess she must have been doing something right. I am post GCSE largely self-taught at da sums. It gives me a perspective. I guess in a way I’m glad I didn’t do A-Level Maths – though it made the first term at University doing Physics nails. It got better and I did electives in discrete math which is a heck of a lot of fun. No, seriously. I thought I would minor in philosophy but one course on Descartes did for me on that. It was utter bollocks and packed to the rafters with pretentious wankers. There was a Bellendius maximus called George who didn’t speak English. I don’t mean he was foreign. He was English but he’d never be caught saying “thinking” when he could say “cognitive processing”. Epic twat. One of them pissed off to India for a year to “meet Indian philosophers” (whether they wanted to meet him is moot) and got Casevaced back to Blighty with a case of terrible guts. I dunno if he found enlightenment (or even a toilet) but it caused me a chortle. He was so up himself and he fancied my bird – they would discuss Wittgenstein at length. And he was Welsh not that I held that against him. Not that I would have held anything against him seeing as he was “letting go at both ends” so to speak. He also claimed to be a Druid. Which is why I mentioned Welshness.

*I appreciate that ought to reduce the pitch but it was years later I was taught relativity by Stan Clough and others who like knew there stuff.
**The dole office might have been an idea but you couldn’t sack teachers just like that then. He should have done the “walk of shame”. That was my mate Mick’s term for the walk from Blaydon bus station to the dole-office and back via Kwik Save (incorperating Liquour Save) and a number of bookies through a piss-stained pub(l)ic space. Fucking shit-hole is Blaydon (where they had the races). They now have a McDonalds and a gaff that sells second-hand baby impedimenta. The only fuckers who ever missed Blaydon were the bloody Luftwaffe. I went to school with the daughter of the (Labour, natch) MP and she got knocked-up in her first year at Goldsmiths in SE London (an Academy for Bell Ends it must be said). Anyway she gets knocked-up and gives birth to – I am not making this up – a son called “Storm Bruin”. My alma mater, Nottingham, had the largest Helium fridge in Europe. That was cool. Seriously cool. My London college had space missions. Goldsmith’s had a pickler of sharks. One of my bosses at Nottingham, Sir Peter Mansfield, won the Nobel for his work on MRI. Toss-up isn’t it?

Sir! Sir! Clarkson said a bad word, Sir!

Jeremy Clarkson, the celebrated oaf, is in a bit of bother with those guardians of moral rectitude, the Daily Mirror:

The Mirror claims that the Top Gear presenter was reciting a rhyme while in front of cameras, during which he allegedly said, “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…” before mumbling: “Catch a n****r by his toe”.

The bastard. Reciting childrens’ rhymes without the currently approved Bowdlerizations is it, now? The man’s a menace to society.

We used that rhyme all the time as kids, and didn’t even know what the word meant. It was just the thing you caught by the toe, and let go in the event of squealing. (I had a vague idea that it was a small furry animal something like like a badger, myself. Do badgers squeal? Never mind.) Guess I’ll never work for the BBC, then (yeah, that’ll keep me awake at night):

Lawyer Lawrence Davies told reporters: “Clarkson has to be sacked, no matter how much money he makes for the BBC. Use of that word is not acceptable.”

Oh, obviously. Totally proportionate response. I mean, he might say “fuck” or “cunt” next. Or is that allowed now? Anyway, he’s clearly an irredeemable hatey xenophobe racist hatemonger. If he isn’t stopped now, before you know it he’ll be mowing down crowds of black people in a McLaren P1 with the Confederate flag painted on its roof on live TV, while laughing maniacally. Stands to reason.

The Mirror says that it hired a firm of audio forensic experts to analyse the clip. They confirmed that the n-word was indeed used by Clarkson.
An investigator working for CY4OR…

…blah, blah, blah. Oh, and by the way, don’t forget to pay your TV licence or the BBC will send the lads round.

I don’t know. Clarkson may be the BBC’s token “right-winger”, but he’s still an arse; the Mirror’s just the Sun without the tits (and it wasn’t Murdoch who nicked his employees’ pensions then took a header of his yacht when the net began to close in), and the BBC’s a protection racket disguised as a TV company. Sometimes I wish they’d just all go away and leave us in peace.

The Smell of Derbyshire…

Air Wick has partnered with the UK National Parks, developing a range of fragrances inspired by the UK’s distinctive and majestic National Parks. These evocative fragrances not only capture the freshness of Britain’s ‘breathing spaces’, but are also designed to bring the countryside…inside. As well as experiencing the beautiful Yorkshire Dales, Peak District, Exmoor and Brecon Beacons first hand, you can now enjoy fragrances inspired by these parks from the comfort of your own home. Whist, supporting the UK National Parks with every purchase.

The Air Wick Master Perfumers have crafted an exclusive collection of four fragrances which will help reignite memories of individual parks. Our scents reflect the changing seasons and intense variety of the British outdoors, evoking the beautiful landscapes the National Parks represent.

I live kicking distance from the Peak District I do wonder… I dunno what to wonder but some products should just not exist. Let us hope the market prevails.

North of the DMZ and beyond the pale.

There has been some crazy news out of everyone’s favourite totalitarian heckhole recently.

First I heard this nugget…

Doctor Who, Top Gear and Teletubbies have apparently passed the suitability test to be shown on North Korea’s tightly-controlled state TV.

After months of negotiation with the BBC, the three shows have been deemed worthy of consideration for broadcasting in the totalitarian state.

The country’s state broadcaster, Korean Central Television, is only on air for six-and-a-half hours every day.

Odd choices. Skipping over the tubbies the sight of that Bellendius Maximus Clarkson whizzing around in a Bugatti is almost torture to the poor buggers up there who feel lucky to get a puncture repair kit for their bike. And the Doctor is a rather anti-authority figure which probably wouldn’t fit with the rest of KCT’s output… Although I guesss the Cybermen might go down well with the Kimocracy.

At least a third of the output is spent praising the government of Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un, while another third extols workers to toil harder for the good of the country.

And I thought endless repeats of “Last of the Summer Wine” was soul-crushing.

But wait…

The weekly television highlight is ‘It’s So Funny’, a long-running comedy show in which two uniformed soldiers perform slapstick sketches in between propaganda lectures about the greatness of North Korea.

Now that’s what I call entertainment! That’s better than Cannon & Ball that is and they were fucking terrible beyond my comprehension. Here’s a modest proposal. We parachute Piers Morgan into the Pyongyang. He’s without a berth and it is a win-win if you ask me. I feel so sorry for the North Koreans.

This speaks volumes…

Likewise, there is no fundamental difference between the way in which North and South Koreans look [The entire peninsula is very ethnically homogeneous in the World and this is an ancient civilization - Nick]. Having said that, however, 60-plus years is not a short amount of time, and the two Koreas did live through two very different worlds. South Koreans now live in one of the world’s wealthiest countries, North Koreans one of the poorest. In particular, the crushing famine that North Korea suffered in the mid-1990s has left a visible impact on North Korean people’s physique. While the average height of adult South Korean men is 171.5 cm (~5′ 7.5″), the average height of adult North Korean men is 165.4 cm (~5′ 5″). Because North Korean youths have become so malnourished, North Korea had to lower the minimum height requirement for its soldiers from 140 cm (~4′ 7″) to 137 cm (~4′ 6″) in 2010. (In contrast, South Korea recently had to extend the maximum height requirement from 196 cm (~6′ 5″) to 204 cm (~6′ 8″) for its conscripts.)

And that is not unrelated to the TV on my wall (Samsung) and the fact I have never bought a single item from North of the DMZ. I mean if they can’t get enough food they ain’t going to break the mould in tech are they? (More on that later). But this isn’t even the end-point of socialism as we understand it and as the socialist Eric Blair understood it. This is not Sweden with toothsome murder mysteries and beer you need a mortgage for. This is Hell run by an insane Satan. This is the prison state as envisaged by Vasily Grossman as the end of Stalinism.

But they have drones you know. Things that sound like they were built in a shed. I have spoken to hobbyists who can do better. At least it ain’t the grotesquely over-budget, under-performing and over-time F-35. I mean that camera… I have a better camera and I’m not on a defence budget here.

But before we simply regard the Kimocracy as risible buffoons it would be be wise to consider this. And also to consider that it is entirely possible to laugh and be revolted at the same time. They are profoundly risible but also profoundly evil. The two are not mutually exclusive.

%d bloggers like this: