Protecting the Olympic ideal

I probably just infringed two trade marks by posting the above picture, but what the hell...

LOCOG's latest loco idea (at least they nearly got the name right!) is that they have decided that it will jealously and vigorously protect its trade mark during the run up to and the period of the forthcoming Olympic bunfest. There will be a statutory marketing blackout on any brands that are not Olympic sponsors using anything to do with the games in their promotions.

This apparently extends to anything even remotely connected with the mention of 2012, London, Olympics or anything remotely ring like.

They also say that any athlete involved could be disqualified from the games. How very sportsmanlike!

Hang on though. If we're not careful then we are not going to have a Team GB (don't you just hate that expression?). You might have noticed on your TV screen lately the likes of our boxer Anthony Ogogo and pole vaulter Helen Bleasdale appearing on behalf of Subway to promote their 'personal best' sandwich. That's two people off the team already then, because rivals MacDonalds might be an official sponsor, but Subway definitely isn't.

Surely this is just asking for it? There's nothing more that those clever little creative people like than finding a way of getting around unenforceable bans. A recent survey actually revealed that more people associate Nike (not a sponsor) with the Olympic than Adidas (who are sponsors). They're just going to be lining up to have a go.

Apparently Locog is taking this all very seriously. The other day I read about a little old lady who knitted a pullover for a doll called Olympia that she put in with the prizes in her local charity fete. Locog was quick to pounce, pointing out that use of the five Olympic rings and the number 2012 contravened their strangehold on official Olympic merchandise.

To these people I say "Get a fucking life!"

Austerity? What austerity?

You might have noticed lately that the Fourth Reich is having a little 'Arab Spring' experience of it's own with the Greeks about to tell the EU what it can do with it's austerity pact...

And who can blame them when it seems that austerity and restraint only apply to other people as far as the European Commission is concerned. It appears that whilst everyone else is being told to tighten their belts, they are expecting the taxpayer to stump up an extra €2.4 billion to inflate their wage packets, and a further €1.4 billion for their pensions and allowances.

And what about the unemployment figures? Well at least the Commission is doing its bit in that direction - leading the way by cutting 6 of its 41,000 jobs in 2013. Yes, I did mean six.

And despite passing an initiative on greater transparency, they are also demanding a increase of €11.5 million in their €181 million schools budget - and refusing steadfastly to say how they will be spending it!

If you want an example of blatent 'Do what I tell you, not what I do' then why not contrast the 25% cut in the UK budget for media, culture and sport with the Commissions increase in the corresponding education and culture budget of €2.8 billion. That should keep the propaganda machine rolling along nicely.

Yes, we certainly are all in it together...

93 Men in a Boat (15) : The Impressionist

The conversation always seems to start with the same question : "Have you been on this boat before?"

The answer is, of course, totally irrelevant because the impressionist really doesn't care. He's really only interested in a lead into a long, tedious monologue all about the sights he's seen and the places he's been to. The one we got was able to recall every single port of call of his previous six trips on this, admittedly, quite nice ship.

We let him waffle on a while until it became apparent that all of his previous voyages had been in Europe, so that let me in! "You don't do long haul, then?" I interject.

"But of course we do!" comes the indignant response and he proceeds to launch into a long list of his South American and Antipodean adventures. However, we did become a little suspicious when he told us that Hobart was in New Zealand and he mispronounced 'Mathew Pitchew'

Mrs D caught the corner of my eye and gave the sign : both hands palm down and the shrug - our secret sign for Tommy Cooper of whom there has also been many an impression.

We let him run out of breath and then left a long pregnant pause. Of course, nature abhors a vacuum and so, it seems, does the impressionist. Having exhausted his seemingly endless list of places, the next inevitable question comes out : "Have you travelled with this company before?"

"Yes", we reply. "This is our nineteenth trip" - at which point the conversation comes to an abrupt stop...

...just like that!

The Dead Cunt Pool

I am delighted to announce that I have successfully defended my title of 'Dead Cunt Pool' champion that I last won when Gaddaffi kicked the bucket by successfully nominating the recently deceased Lockerbie bomber.

Megrahi was definitely a cunt of the first order even if you ignore the debate over whether he actually did it or not - something I suspect that we will never get to the bottom of.

Even if he didn't do it, then the man was still a cunt for taking the fall and only a terminally stupid, fanatical ideologist would do that at the end of the day, so the world is undoubtedly a better place without him.

For the next Dead Cunt Pool which you can access by clicking here, I am nailing my colours to the mast with an ex-Nazi cunt, Erich Priebke.

"Who the fuck is he?" I hear you asking. Well, Erich Priebke (born July 29, 1913) is a former Hauptsturmführer (Captain) in the Waffen SS. In 1996 he was convicted of war crimes in Italy, for participating in the massacre at the Ardeatine caves in Rome, on March 24, 1944. 335 Italian civilians were killed there in retaliation after a partisan attack had claimed the lives of 33 German soldiers (an SS military police battalion from South Tyrol). Priebke was one of those who was held responsible for this mass execution. After the defeat of Nazi Germany, he got help to flee to Argentina where he lived for over 50 years.

Definitely a cunt, and at the age of 99 quite possibly the next dead cunt!!

Incidentally, you can't have Robin Gibb because he's already dead - and anyway I'd argue that he was actually a cunt...

Eurovision Song Contest

Guest post by ChasC

Well, there you go then. All over for another year. Great wasn't it?...

No. Well, perhaps they should have listened and accepted my song for this years contest. A little number I composed in the true spirit of Eurovision. Never mind the battle between Russian grannies and a British granddad. This was a definite winner.

Have a listen and see if you agree. After all, there's always next year...

A song for Europe

Murder in Tesco...

Tired of constantly being broke and stuck in an unhappy marriage, a young husband decided to solve both problems by taking out a large insurance policy on his wife with himself as the beneficiary and then arranging to have her killed.

A 'friend of a friend' put him in touch with a strange, dark-side underworld figure who went by the name of 'Artie.' Artie explained to the husband that his going price for snuffing out a spouse was £10,000. The husband said he was willing to pay that amount but that he wouldn't have any cash on hand until he could collect his wife's insurance money.

Artie insisted on being paid at least something up front, so the man opened his wallet, displaying the single pound coin that rested inside. Artie sighed, rolled his eyes and reluctantly agreed to accept the pound as down payment for the dirty deed.

A few days later, Artie followed the man's wife to the local Tesco Supermarket. There, he surprised her in the produce department and proceeded to strangle her with his gloved hands. As the poor unsuspecting woman drew her last breath and slumped to the floor, the manager of the produce department stumbled unexpectedly onto the murder scene.

Unwilling to leave any living witnesses behind, ol' Artie had no choice but to strangle the produce manager as well. However, unknown to Artie, the entire proceedings were captured by the hidden security cameras and observed by the shop's security guard, who immediately called the police.

Artie was caught and arrested before he could even leave the premises. Under intense questioning at the police station, he revealed the whole sordid plan, including his unusual financial arrangements with the hapless husband who was also quickly arrested.

The next day in the Sun printed the following headline :

'ARTIE CHOKES 2 for £1.00 @ Tesco'

Who'd be a head teacher?

It seems that recent investigations have revealed that teachers and deputy heads don't want the top job...

One is tempted to ask why. After all, is this job not the pinnacle of a teachers career? Should they not be fighting each other for the privilege? I decided to ask a friend of mine who used to be a deputy head what she thought about it.

Like many people who go into the teaching profession - and, to be honest, it's one where you need the patience of a saint and the skin of a rhinoceros - she got into it to - - errrr - - teach children. Seems obvious really. As a deputy head, she still got involved in the classroom albeit less than she used to, but she had no desire to give up the contact with pupils so that she could fill in paperwork for the government and do a load of admin work.

And, she added, you don't actually get much extra money for the aggro, either.

It seems to me to be a waste of talent and training to take a teacher out of class and lock them away in an office. Should we not perhaps be employing administrators to run our schools thus freeing up the teacher to actually teach children?

I could never be a teacher as I cannot tolerate fools gladly, so dealing with parents, pupils and other teachers would be right out of the window. But I take my hat off to people who can do it; often abused and often maligned and, occasionally, a bunch of militant bastards. But no-one is perfect.

I could however run a school. That's management and I'm quite good at that...

Could it happen again?

I have just spent a week in Guernsey. I have been there a couple of times before and it never ceases to amaze me the extent of fortifications and other works which the occupying forces in WWII performed on this small island.

This time I visited the underground hospital - the largest construction of its type in Europe. The extent of the tunnels is staggering. It seems to go on forever. On the way out I spent some time looking at wartime newspapers and chatting to a man on the desk who lived through the occupation as a young man.

Last night, I watched a programme called "Hitler's children" on the BBC and found it to be a profound and moving account by the descendants of the leaders of the Third Reich. Whether this fascination was partly due to my recent experiences on Guernsey I couldn't say for sure, but it almost certainly contributed to my interest.

I watched the grandson of Rudolph Hoest, commandant of Auschwitz return to the camp. He was shown round the luxury villa where his father played as a young boy - right next to the gas chambers. He was incredulous. As he walked away he commented "Kisses my grandmother on the check and says 'Just going out now to kill a few thousand people. See you at dinner time.' Insanity...total insanity..."

Then he bravely faced a group of Jewish students. One girl broke down as she explained that his grandfather exterminated her family. Then a survivor of the camp asked if he could shake his hand. They embraced. He told him "It's not your fault. You weren't there."

The program moved on to Bettina Goering who now lives in a remote region of California, isolated from the world. To deal with the guilt, she and her brother both had themselves sterilised so that there could be no more Goerings bought into the world.

But the most disturbing piece of the program to my view was Niklas Frank, descendant of Hans Frank the Nazi governor of Poland. He now embraces his family's terrible past and travels giving talks about it trying to increase awareness of what happened. At one stage he asks "Could it happen again?

If the economic situation got worse, would we again turn to a strong leader. Perhaps we could clear out a few ethnic minorities. Drive out a few foreigners. After all, that would be good for us because we would have the jobs for our own people. And it would strengthen the bloodline..."

Could it happen again? Let's hope not, but at least let's keep asking the question if only to make it less likely...

93 Men in a Boat (14) : The Trophy Wife

There is a saying in the cruising world : "The more you pay, the more you sway" because the most expensive cabins are located on the top deck of the ship. This is, I suspect, a throwback to the days of the great ocean liners where the third class accommodation was down in the deep guts of the ship. Well, you'd want to be well away from that lot, wouldn't you?

The trophy wife will, of course, settle for nothing less than the very best : a top deck stateroom, preferably the owners suite!

There is a preconception that the trophy wife is like MacDonalds and Starbucks - an American thing. But if this was ever so, then she is becoming and increasingly British phenomenon. And she is, of course, very easy to spot.

Hanging on the arm of her ageing husband (very touchy feely, the trophy wife), the jewellery is the first thing to note. No trophy wife would be seen dead with a diamond solitaire smaller than a couple of karats. And, of course, the matching earrings and necklace. There are, when all said and done, her insurance policy. That and the will...

She is a method of showing off her husbands wealth and status. Jewellery, clothes, accessories - the labels are everywhere. She glides through the public rooms exuding expense leaving a trail of perfume wafting on the air (French, au naturel). Should she be missing, you need look no further than the spa or the hairdresser.

And if she's not there, then she's likely to be found propping up the bar with a G&T or glass of champagne (depending on the time of day) in her hand. She likes to impress the plebs with stories of her homes in Cheshire and the Cote d'Azur and how terribly difficult it is to get dependable staff these days.

She's definitely a possession to be shown off. A status symbol proclaiming her husbands virility. She always looks totally out of place - overdressed and with far too much make up. She is struggling to maintain the image of youth.

They always have a table for two in the dining room. Preferably the same one. They like to be noticed.

Whilst trying to impress Mrs D at a wine tasting, he said to her "I'm seventy-one years old. It's having a young wife that keeps me looking so good!"

"It's not working" she replied, taking another swig of plonk...

Dying laughing

You might think there's nothing funny about dying, but you'd be wrong...



Alexie Sayle has made a short video which he's posted on YouTube where he talks to people with terminal illnesses. The overall feeling is that you have to laugh or you'll cry. It seems that the people with the death sentence hanging over them are most irritated by people who are unable to cope with their illness; people who don't know what to say with them.

Perhaps I am odd, but I have never been embarrassed by other peoples' sufferings. Some years ago, I remember a friend of mine who had been given six months to live, dying from breast cancer. When I first saw her after I heard her news, I said to her something like "I'm sorry to hear you've had some shit news." She turned to me and said "Yes, I've been given six months to live."

I wasn't phased at this and just said something like "Well, you just have to cram as much as possible into whatever time you've got left." We went on to have quite a long conversation about just about anything, including cancer.

At the end of it all, she said to me "You know, it's really nice to be able to have a normal conversation with someone. People just don't now what to say to me." Well, I understand the discomfort. It's difficult and, if I'm honest, you can't help being grateful that it's not you or one of your nearest and dearest.

Of course, it just might be that I'm insensitive.

Anyway, have a shuftee at Alexie's video and next time you come across someone with a terminal illness, go and have a normal chat with them and don't be afraid they might mention their situation. It will make their day and, you never know, it might be you on the receiving end one day...

Pave me over...

I've been chastised severely by my musical friend ChasC because I've not done a lot of videos for him, so here's one of his latest offerings about the hypocrisy of people who pretend to be all green and eco-friendly...

Church of the Heavenly Wood

We continue our quest for the ultimate religion this week with the Church of the Heavenly Wood.

Woodism was created in 1996 by Reverend Steve Galindo. They follow the late cult director Edward D. Wood Jr., and look to him as a saviour. The Church of Ed Wood use Ed and his films to inject spirituality into those who get little fulfilment from more mainstream religions like Christianity. By looking at his films and his life, we learn to lead happy, positive lives. We strive for acceptance of others and of the self.

Their words :

"You might think that it's silly or stupid, but Woodism currently boasts over 3,000 legally baptised followers worldwide! That's over 3,000 who have joined Reverend Steve Galindo in keeping Ed Wood's spirit and message alive! You might think we're silly or stupid. And that's fine with us. After all, we don't expect you to believe in Woodism. We expect you to respect the OUR belief in Woodism.

One of the most important rituals in this religion is dressing up opposite of the genders, as Wood often included transvestites in his movies. If you were wondering if these people are really weird, you gotta know that the first sentence that appears on the official website is: 'To answer your first question – yes, we’re totally serious.'

The Covenant of Happiness is a period from August to the end of October during which ten holy days fall. In this LENT-like time, a person who is fully in tune with the ways of the Woodites tries to honour Ed by living one's life in an extended party. It begins with the Ed Wood Day of Remembrance, a day for preaching, a day to spend with friends, and a day to not be afraid to be yourself, all the while remembering Ed. The second holy day, the death of Bela Lugosi, is not a sad day but a happy day when one tries to remember him by watching one or more of his films.

The last day of the Covenant of Happiness is Halloween, Ed Wood's favourite holiday. As such, Halloween acts as the Woodian New Year within the WOODIAN CALENDAR. The Woodian calendar starts on November 1948, the year Ed made his first film, STREETS OF LAREDO. So, in our calendar, November 1948 to October 1949 is Woodian Year 1, which means we are currently [October, 2003] in WY55 with 56 coming at the end of this month.

Yeah, it's a bit confusing to us, too. We don't use it a lot. We use it to sort of impress people but to fully understand it you need math and we all hate math, so it's a concept that pretty much is just gathering dust.

We might re-work it one day. We might not. No rush."

So, if I've managed to wet your appetite, then why not go for an online baptism?

Bill Cosby : " I'm 83 and tired..."

Words of wisdom from a funny man...

I'm 83. Except for brief period in the 50's when I was doing my National Service, I've worked hard since I was 17. Except for some serious health challenges, I put in 50-hour weeks, and didn't call in sick in nearly

40 years.

I made a reasonable salary, but I didn't inherit my job or my income, and I worked to get where I am. Given the economy, it looks as though retirement was a bad idea, and I'm tired. Very tired.

I'm tired of being told that I have to "spread the wealth" to people who don't have my work ethic. I'm tired of being told the government will take the money I earned, by force if necessary, and give it to people too lazy to earn it.

I'm tired of being told that Islam is a "Religion of Peace," when every day I can read dozens of stories of Muslim men killing their sisters, wives and daughters for their family "honor"; of Muslims rioting over some slight offence; of Muslims murdering Christian and Jews because they aren't "believers"; of Muslims burning schools for girls; of Muslims stoning teenage rape victims to death for "adultery"; of Muslims mutilating the genitals of little girls; all in the name of Allah, because the Qur'an and Shari'a law tells them to.

I'm tired of being told that out of "tolerance for other cultures" we must let Saudi Arabia and other Arab countries use our oil money to fund mosques and madrassa Islamic schools to preach hate in Australia , New Zealand , UK , America and Canada , while no one from these countries are allowed to fund a church, synagogue or religious school in Saudi Arabia or any other Arab country to teach love and tolerance..

I'm tired of being told I must lower my living standard to fight global warming, which no one is allowed to debate.

I'm tired of being told that drug addicts have a disease, and I must help support and treat them, and pay for the damage they do. Did a giant germ rush out of a dark alley, grab them, and stuff white powder up their noses or stick a needle in their arm while they tried to fight it off?

I'm tired of hearing wealthy athletes, entertainers and politicians of all parties talking about innocent mistakes, stupid mistakes or youthful mistakes, when we all know they think their only mistake was getting caught. I'm tired of people with a sense of entitlement, rich or poor.

I'm really tired of people who don't take responsibility for their lives and actions. I'm tired of hearing them blame the government, or discrimination or big-whatever for their problems.

I'm also tired and fed up with seeing young men and women in their teens and early 20's be-deck them selves in tattoos and face studs, thereby making themselves unemployable and claiming money from the

Government.

Yes, I'm damn tired. But I'm also glad to be 83.. Because, mostly, I'm not going to have to see the world these people are making. I'm just sorry for my granddaughter and their children.

Thank God I'm on the way out and not on the way in.

(Hat tip to my friend Mike in Cornwall for sending me this)

Great bars of the world : Peters Sports Bar, Faial

Apparently Peter's Sports Bar on the Azorian Island of Faial is one of the top 5 'yatchie' bars in the world, but not being a yatchie myself I personally had never heard of it.

Having said that, the atmosphere is infectious. The decor is flags from hundreds of boats that have called in over the years signed by the crew members. It makes it a very personal and yet at the same time inclusive place. This is apparently part of an Azorian tradition that says that ships crossing the Atlantic in either direction should leave their mark before sailing on as not to do so would bring bad luck. There are hundreds of these marks along the quayside in an array of graffiti of varying quality. It seems that the bar is an extension of that tradition.

The bar is now owned by the third generation of the family. It transpires that the present owners father had an unpronouncable name and that a visiting British Naval commander gave up and decided to call him Peter. The name stuck and Peter's it has been ever since.

But the most remarkable thing about Peter's is that upstairs there is a scrimshaw museum containing hundreds of carvings done by whalers over the centuries, predominantly on whale tooth. It's a collection that is both priceless and fascinating and well worth a look.

And after all that culture, what better than to settle in the bar with an ice cold draught beer - which remarkably sells for €1 a time.

Well worth a visit...

Immigration queues

Now my regular reader will know that I travel about this world quite a lot, so the subject of queues at Heathrow waiting to get back through passport control is a subject fairly close to my heart.

Apparently there is a target for immigration queues of 45 minutes - a frightening enough target in itself if you are the one standing in the queue but, I suppose, not unreasonable as a maximum, especially at peak traffic times.

Anyway, there is an inspectorate whose job it is to assess how well the UKBA is performing. That's the UKBA you will recall that was recently described as 'unfit for purpose'. They produced their figures for waiting times and these were immediately rubbished by the government.

So the official response is that the inspectors were measuring the queues in a different way and therefore waiting times were being exaggerated.

Well, there's a simple way to sort that out, isn't there?

I suggest that Immigration Minister, Damian Green, gets his arse down to Heathrow and sends a day there assessing the situation for himself. Simples.

In a statement, a UKBA spokesperson said: "Border Force and BAA data shows that queueing time targets for UK and EEA citizens were not breached during April. But we know at times queues have been too long. That is why we have announced an extra 80 staff for peak times at Heathrow. And it's why we've also, engaged an extra 480 people to cover the Olympic period."

Sorry guys, but the mouthwash just ain't making it...

Merkel meets with Hollande...

EXCLUSIVE!
Transcript of the first meeting of the new French President and Chancellor Merkel...

Merkel : So, haf you come round to mine vay of thinking?

Hollande : Non.

Merkel : But you must see zat mine vay is the only vay!

Hollande : Non.

Merkel : Sweinhund! We haf vays of making you tow ze line!

Hollande : Non. Mais you are tres sexy ven you are engrie...

Merkel : You must help to bail out ze Greeks or ve are all in ze shite!

Hollande : Non.

Merkel : Austerity is ze only answer!

Hollande : Non.

Merkel : Do you have nothing else to say?

Hollande : Non.

(...Meeting continues in this vein for three hours....)

Merkel : So ve vill issue a joint communique saying ve vill continue to vork togezzer in ze interests of ze Eurozone?

Hollande : Oui.

(Meeting closes on positive note...)

Still falling apart

It would not surprise me to see the above coming back into legal tender in the not too distant future, even though the picture doesn't seem to have caught my best side...

The Greeks can't seem to form a government, so there may have to be fresh elections which, if the latest polls are to be believed, would see the austerity and Fourth Reich supporting parties swept from power.

The stock markets seem to think it could happen if the falls yesterday are anything to go by - not to mention the panic meeting of the Eurozone countries who are trying desperately to keep the Greeks in the Euro club.

The banks also seem to think it will happen, and it was leaked today that several never had much confidence in the Greeks when they joined in the first place. It seems that they never bothered to erase the Drachma from their systems, so now all they have to do is flip a switch to turn it back on again!

For Greece itself, it certainly won't pose a problem. The country's national bank has its own banknote printing press and mint and has continued to print Euro banknotes ever since joining the single currency in 2001. With a bit of luck, maybe they kept the old drachma plates!?!

It is increasing looking like the beginning of the end for Euro and, after all, how many of us ever thought that linking together the German and Greek economies in this was was ever going to work. The expressions 'chalk and cheese' leaps to mind.

For the Reich, of course, the biggest miscalculation was allowing the Greeks to vote - not something the European Commission has to worry about..

Tackle a litter lout...

Litter in this country is a national disgrace...

Do we have no pride in our surroundings? Do we not care whether we transform our towns into rubbish tips? Do we not care about the state of our communities?

Clearly not!

So what's the answer? Well, it seems from listening to the BBC this morning that there is a campaign out there to get members of the general public to tackle people whenever they see them dropping litter. "Just tell them to pick it up" they advocate.

Well, maybe it's just me that thinks this is a bad idea. Sure, the principle is sound, but the last time I tried it I got a mouth full of abuse, two fingers and a threat to kick my fucking head in. Frankly, in the 21st century that's pretty much the response I expected.

I was reading in my local paper the other day that we have a problem in one of our villages. Seems that people have been pissing into plastic bottles and then chucking them out of car windows.

One of the local pillars of the community went out on a litter picking trip along the main road that skirts her village and was horrified to find 90 litres of human urine in bottles along the roadside. Her local council commented "The littering of bottles of urine is a national problem" which I frankly take to mean that the locals propose to do bugger all about it.

Their futile response is to tell the public to "take a note of registration numbers of any vehicles that they spot chucking litter out of their car windows so that action can be taken". Well, given that it's your word against theirs and that my neighbours would gladly report me even if I wasn't there at the time just because they hate my guts, this approach doesn't exactly fill me with confidence.

I despair of peole. People are shit. Behaviour like this just goes to prove my point...

Nuwaubianism

Our search for the world's wackiest religion continues this week with Nuwaubianism....

Nuwaubianism is a religious organization founded and led by Malachi (Dwight) York - pictured above. His ministry began in the late 1960s, from 1967 preaching to the Nubians (viz. African Americans) in Brooklyn, and he founded numerous esoteric or quasi-religious fraternal orders under various names during the 1970s and 1980s, at first centered around pseudo-Islamic themes, later moving to a loose Ancient Egypt theme, eclectically mixing ideas taken from black nationalism, cryptozoological and UFO religions and popular conspiracy theory.

York published some 450 booklets (dubbed "scrolls") under numerous pseudonyms. During the late 1990s, he styled himself a messianic founder-prophet of his movement, sometimes claiming divine status or extraterrestrial origin, appearing on his Savior's Day celebrations at Tama-Re, the Nuwaubian headquarters, now demolished.

In 1996, under the name "Nayya: Malachi Zodok York-El" he published The Holy Tablets (a.k.a. the "Nuwaubian Bible"), for which he claims divine inspiration, and in which he styles himself as a messiah figure, expounding a UFO religion surrounding the "planet Rizq", according to which himself as well as pharaoh Ramesses II were extraterrestrials.

Some of York’s followers considered him to be a living god, but he has suggested that he is merely channeling the divine through various personalities. He has also identified himself as Al-Khidr (“the green one”) and as Melchizedek (who York says is also the archangel Michael).

In Nuwaubian mythology, Leviathan is a god associated with the Moon, sex, and spirit — also known as Lucifer, Sin, Set, Thoth, Siva, Hermes, Poseidon and the biblical serpent. Nuwaubians believe that the Spell of Leviathan was cast by the devil thousands of years ago to hypnotize Black people into “spiritual ignorance and racial indifference” through such media as the Bible and certain elements of popular culture.

York has claimed to be an extraterrestrial master teacher from the planet Rizq. He wrote, “We have been coming to this planet before it had your life form on it.… My incarnation as an Ilah Mutajassid or Avatara was originally in the year 1945 A.D. In order to get here I travelled by one of the smaller passenger crafts called SHAM out of a Motherplane called MERKABAH or NIBIRU” which will launch the Crystal City or New Jerusalem (see: Book of Revelation 21:2) to our solar system from its position in Orion.

A 40-year process of taking the 144,000 Chosen Few (see: Book of Revelation 14:1) — 12,000 each from the Twelve Tribes of Israel — into the Planet Craft NIBIRU began on 12 August 2003 and will end on 12 August 2043.

York told his followers that in 1952, grotesque extraterrestrial Andromedeans that resembled the Predator met with and frightened U.S. President Harry S. Truman. Other extraterrestrials have been trading with Earth since the Eisenhower administration, and are responsible for giving us technologies ranging from the polio vaccine to the hula hoop.

Earth is said to still be visited by extraterrestrials, some of which prey on human children. Currently, there are said to be over 70 different species of “Grey” and 16 different species of “Reptilians” on Earth. Human fetuses are said to go through Reptilian and Grey stages during their development (and if they are born prematurely, they will remain Reptilians or Greys).

Among the reasons why these things are not widely acknowledged, according to York, is that extraterrestrials plant ideas and images in the minds of the makers of Hollywood movies about extraterrestrials so that these fictional stories can be used to discredit people who know the truth

Here's just a few of York's beliefs :

1. Saturn is not really a planet, but a gaseous ball adjacent to the actual planet, Titan, which is erroneously considered to be one of Saturn’s moons.
2. The head and hat of Santa Claus are symbolic representations of Saturn, Titan, and Saturn’s rings
3. The Pyramids of Egypt are, among other things, electromagnetic antennas that create standing columnar waves of tachyon energy to prevent the wobbling of the Earth.
4. “The Koran called the Holy Qur’aan or the glorious Qur’aan as held in the hands of Muslims today is a product of Jewish scholars and the Catholic Church’s branch of the Jesuit priest under Pope Augustine.”
5. The Earth is hollow and contains cities populated by different species of people, such as the Deros, the Teros, the Flugelrods, the Duwanis, the Dunakial, and the Anunnaqi. The legends of the Sumerians, Ancient Egyptians, Aztecs, Olmecs, Mayans, Hopi, and Hindus speak of these things (for instance, the story of the river Styx). Many of the chambers of the Egyptian pyramids lead to this subterranean world.
6. Everyone is originally conceived as twins, but usually only one of the twins survives to be born.
7. It is important to bury the afterbirth so that Satan does not use it to make a duplicate of the recently-born child. Furthermore, some aborted fetuses survive their abortion to live in the sewers, where they are being gathered and organized to take over the world.
8. People were once symmetrical and ambidextrous, but then a meteorite struck Earth and tilted its axis causing handedness and shifting the heart off-center in the chest.
9. Each of us has seven clones: Clones are in tune with each other unconsciously and linked etherically, which means anything that happens to you the cloned counterparts of you feels also.
10. Women existed for many generations before they invented men through genetic manipulation.
11. Homo sapiens is the result of cloning experiments that were done on Mars using Homo erectus
12. “When the Earth shifts, babies will stop being born and that day will come soon. Babies are not really being born anymore. They are being cloned.”
13. And some species of dinosaur, for instance the Tyrannosaurus Rex, evolved from extra-terrestrial greys.
14. The pig was created by Imhotep and Zoser during the time of Abraham, by grafting cells from the dog, cat and rat together, and was designed to help dispose of leprous corpses.
15. There is an underground road connecting New York and London. Furthermore, Alternative 3 is a fact, and Mars is being prepared for the evacuation of Earth’s intellectual and political elite.
16. The Illuminati have nurtured a child, Satan's son, who was born on 6 June 1966 at the Dakota House on 72nd Street in New York to Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis of the Rothschild/Kennedy families. The Pope was present at the birth and performed necromantic ceremonies. The child was raised by former U.S. president Richard Nixon and now lives in Belgium, where it is hooked up bodily to a computer called “The Beast 3M” or “3666.

I might be wrong, but frankly he just might be mad as a hatter....

(Read more on Wikipedia)

Hell explained...

The following is an actual question given on a University of Washington chemistry mid term :

Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today.

Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.

Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added. This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it? If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, 'It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,' and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.

The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct......leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting 'Oh my God.'

The student was given an A+

Greedy bastards!

I've said it before, and I'm going to say it again : There are some really selfish, greedy, money grabbing bastards out there!

And for once I'm not talking about fat cat bosses or bankers. I'm talking about the ordinary working man. The pillar of the community. The salt of the Earth. Yes, those hypocritical bastards!

Unite has given notice to 21 bus companies in London of its intention to ballot up to 21,000 members in the capital from next week. It has called for a £500 payment to recognise the "massive increase" in workload during the Games this summer, saying that 800,000 extra passengers are expected to travel on buses.

Now maybe I'm missing something? You are a bus driver. You drive a bus. The bus holds a finite number of people which cannot be exceeded. You are paid to drive the bus when it is full of people.

So what the fuck exactly is this "massive increase" in workload?

Unite points out that other transport workers, including those on London Underground, London Overground, Docklands Light Railways, Network Rail and Virgin, will receive hundreds of pounds in extra payments during the Olympics.

So because all these other salt-of-the-earth, money grabbing, hypocritical bastards are getting away with blackmail by demanding extra payments in exchange for not disrupting the Olympics, you think it would be a travesty if you didn't do the same? You're quick enough to criticise bankers' bonuses. You're quick enough to criticise fat cat profit shares. But when it comes to you, that's different is it?

Shame on you. You make me ashamed to be British...

93 Men in a Boat (13) : The Merry Widow

"Hello," she opens. "Mind if I join you?" and without waiting for a response she plunks herself into the empty chair...

"Bugger!" I think. "How many times have I told myself never to sit at a table with an odd number of chairs?"

"My name's Jane" she goes on. "My husband died of cancer last year after a long illness."

Well, really that's a bit of a conversation stopper really, isn't it. I mean, what do you say in response to that? "Well, shit happens" I reply, smiling sweetly. Mrs D glowers at me and kicks me under the table as she looks for a convenient hole to open up in the dining room floor and devour her...

But the widow is nonplussed, not really taking in the unexpected response as she is not actually listening anyway. She prefers talking as this ensures that she remains the centre of attention.

"Yes," she says, going on to explain that her father also died last year and that her brother has terminal heart disease. I am somewhat taken aback and can only conclude that this is her response to my rather unexpected rejoinder. But no. She is being serious.

But all is not lost. The woman across the other side of the table who it transpires has brought her bit of stuff with her leans across and says "My husband died last year as well."

"FFS!" I think wondering what sort of rotten bastard I must have been in a previous life to get myself trapped in such a deadly pincer movement.

"What luck," I interject. "At least you will to talk about" and I hastily make my excuses and fuck off to the toilet to pass comment...

Europe Day

A picture paints a thousand words...

Olympic desparation

Christ! Things are going from bad to worse...

When you have two posts in as many days about the 2012 Jube-Olympics then you know things are really going down the toilet.

In order, presumably, to divert attention away from the opening and closing embarassments-to-be or, perhaps, in an attempt to cause even more congestion in the capital than there is bound to be anyway, Coe's merry men have decided to hold concerts in Hyde Park at the same time. Apparently, they plan to show the ceremonies on the big screen in between the acts.

I have concluded that this is because it is the only way they will be able to force people to watch.

In an attempt to forestall my blood pressure going off the scale, I decided to ask my musical friend what he thought :

"Don't get me wrong," he said. " I actually like Duran Duran. Their latest album was actually quite good! But what the hell are they thinking. I like Snow Patrol too but I'm sure they weren't mentioned on the BBC news this morning?

Anyway, is it really worth the hassle of fighting your way through the crowds to get to London to watch a set of has beens headlining a set of also rans? And whatever your taste, is it really worth the extortionate ticket price ?  I certainly wouldn't pay it.

But what really made my day about these concerts, is that the Sex Pistols were asked to appear and refused because they didn't want to be embarassed!"

Priceless!

Well, no. Actually it's sixty quid a time...

New Olympic message...

Readers will be pleased to know that now there are less than three months to go until the Olympic fiasco is thrust upon us, Coe's merry men are starting to put their latest message across...

The other night I was wending my weary way home from Heathrow around the M25. I couldn't believe what I saw!

There it was in bloudy great yellow lights staring down at me from the plethora of gantries now spanning our motorways : "2012 Olympics. Plan your journey now to avoid delays"

FFS! Is there no escape from this monster that has been unleashed on this unsuspecting and naive nation! As if I wasn't already sufficiently tired at close to midnight and having enough trouble concentrating on my driving, I have to have by blood pressure raised to bursting point by this meaningless, overpriced and completely unnecessary piece of shite.

But you are right, Mr Coe. I am planning my Olympic journey...

I intend to be as far away as possible!

Is the Fourth Reich starting to unravel?

'Sieg Heil and farewell' from outed Sarkozy

Confirmation tonight that the French do, in fact, chuck their rubbish into the Seine...

I don't know about you, but I am pleased to see that some common sense is at last breaking out across the Fourth Reich with news that half of the dreaded Merkozy has had his sad little Napoleonic arse kicked out of office.

Perhaps this reflects the fact that the French have had enough of being told 'we're all in it together' when in fact the real message is 'sod you, Pierre - I'm alright!' At the end of the day, Sarkozy was far from popular. Known as the 'bling-bling' president, his life style was ostentatiously above the very people upon who he was heaping austerity.

Hervé Gattegno of Le Point, said: "He became a reality TV president, a bizarre mixture of ordinary man and media star, whose daily life was a permanent show. It should come as no surprise if, in the end, the public eliminated him like a vulgar Star Academy candidate."

The final straw probably came when he was severely ruffled in the televised debate with the man who is now the new president, appearing bad tempered and on the back foot whilst his opponent reacted calmly to every nasty remark thrown at him. Hardly a statesmanlike performance.

François Hollande's election throws down the gauntlet to Angela Merkel, the German Chancellor, who has railroaded the eurozone into agreeing a new "fiskalpakt" treaty enshrining Germany's austerity doctrine

On top of this, the Greeks have also had enough of being dictated to my foreigners and would appear to have had a mini-revolution all of their own, kicking out the parties that have been screwing them to the EU yoke. The country looks to be leaderless today as the minority parties scrabble together to form some sort of coalition.

I am reminded of a friend of mine in Greece who told me last year that Greece would leave the Euro within the next two years. Who knows if he will be right, but it certainly looks more likely this week than it did last.

And where does this leave Chancellor Merkel? Well, her party seems to have been hammered in an election in the state of Schleswig-Holstein - the latest in a series of setbacks at the ballot box for her ruling coalition.

Add that to the local elections on the UK and the mauling that our ruling coalition has taken and you could be forgiven for thinking that the ordinary people of Europe have had enough of the whole bloody circus.

And I, for one, say "About time!"

The Church of Euthanasia

Continuing my search for religions that are - how can I put it? - somewhat less than mainsteam, we turn our attention this week to the Church of Euthanasia.

The Church of Euthanasia (CoE), was started by the Reverend Chris Korda (pictured above) in the Boston, Massachusetts area of the United States.

It claims to be a non-profit educational foundation devoted to restoring balance between Humans and the remaining species on Earth. They believe this can only be accomplished by a massive voluntary population reduction, which will require a leap in Human consciousness to a new species awareness.

The CoE uses sermons, music, culture jamming, publicity stunts and direct action combined with an underlying sense of satire and black humor to highlight Earth’s unsustainable population.

It is notorious for its conflicts with Pro-life Christian activists. According to the church’s website, the one commandment is “Thou shalt not procreate”.

It further asserts four principal pillars:

• suicide,
• abortion,
• cannibalism (“strictly limited to consumption of the already dead”), and
• sodomy (“any sexual act not intended for procreation”).

Slogans employed by the group include “Save the Planet, Kill Yourself”, “Six Billion Humans Can’t Be Wrong”, and “Eat a Queer Fetus for Jesus”, all of which are intended to mix inflammatory issues to unnerve those who oppose abortion and homosexuality.

Here's a few frequently asked questions :

Do I have to kill myself?
Of course you don't have to kill yourself! If you really want to, though, wait until after you've joined the Church. That way, you automatically become a saint, without any additional paperwork. Don't forget to leave a note thanking and/or blaming the Church, and feel free to will us your estate, if you have one.

I've already procreated. Can I still join?
Absolutely! So long as you don't have any more. We have a number of members with children, and we even have a member whose son joined too. What's done is done. What matters is your commitment now.

Why haven't you killed yourself yet?
I'll kill myself when I feel like it. Suicide is OPTIONAL, remember? Maybe if people stopped having so many babies, we could build a compassionate, sustainable future, and I wouldn't want to kill myself anymore.

It's an interesting website. Just click here...

Cats are really smart...

Four men were bragging about how smart their cats were.

The first man was an Engineer, the second man was an Accountant, the third man was a Chemist, and the fourth man was a Civil Servant.

To show off, the Engineer called his cat. "T-square, do your stuff," he said

T-square pranced over to the desk, took out some paper and pen and promptly drew a circle, a square,and a triangle. Everyone agreed that was pretty smart.

But the Accountant said his cat could do better. He called his cat and said "Spreadsheet, do your stuff."

Spreadsheet went out to the kitchen and returned with a dozen cookies. He divided them into 4 equal piles of three. Everyone agreed that was good.

But the Chemist said his cat could do better. He called his cat and said, "Measure, do your stuff."

Measure got up, walked to the fridge, took out a quart of milk, got a 10 ounce glass from the cupboard and poured exactly 8 ounces without spilling a drop into the glass. Everyone agreed that was pretty good.

Then the three men turned to the Civil Servant and said, "What can your cat do?"

The Civil Servant called his cat and said, "Coffee Break, do your stuff."

Coffee Break jumped to his feet. He ate all the cookies, drank the milk, and crapped on the paper.

The he screwed the other three cats...

Claimed he injured his back while doing it...

Filed a grievance report for unsafe working conditions...

Put in for compensation and went home for the rest of the day on sick leave.

And that's why everybody wants to be a Civil Servant!

93 Men in a Boat (12) : The Bridge Player

You might suspect that I am not known for my quiet, retiring nature - and you might well be correct in this assumption. In fact, I like to think of myself as a somewhat outgoing and gregarious sort of chap and this, on the face of it, might make me an unlikely candidate for a game of bridge.

However, I do enjoy a good game of cards and bridge is undoubtedly quite a good game of cards so you can image my unbridled delight when the ship put up a notice asking for anyone who may be interested in partaking of the odd rubber - if you will forgive the expression!

Now 'rubber' is actually quite a strange expression - or so I thought until someone explained to be that it might be quite an apt expression for a game played by sexually frustrated old tossers...

Anyway, we had an afternoon at sea to fill, so I thought I might as well join in. Mrs D does not play. Her preferred card game is snap with our four year old grandson although I did point out to her that the only basic difference is the age of the children who are playing.

One does not of course, engage in banter whilst play is in progress or, indeed, 'unnecessary commentary' as one of my fellow players described it. Well, they might not, but I do so they can bugger off.

As it turned out, the awfully superior widow from London - who naturally had brought along her own cards - talked a much better game than she played so we were quite well suited. Unfortunately our opponents were that worst of pairings: the husband and wife who play together during every waking moment. Well, except when he was down the golf club, naturally.

The bidding was to say the least interesting. Our opponents had a clear 'understanding' verging on a language of their own. In some circles this is known as 'skill' although in the circles I move in, it is more commonly known as 'cheating'.

Still, it passed the time whilst we crossed between islands, but I suspect that next time they may prefer to play with someone less cynical and just a tad more serious.

Like I said : tossers...

Rotten Boroughs : Werrington, Staffordshire

Turf wars have broken out in the sleepy village of Werrington when police were called to a heated parish council meeting where the issue of verge cutting got severely out of hand...

The two officers, who arrived in separate cars, were kept on the scene for more than an hour to take aside a member who had refused to leave the meeting.

There had been claims some of the verges were being cut while others were left unkempt. Apparently, the village has a 'lengthsman' whose job it is to keep a length of road tidy. But he got a bit beyond himself and starting cutting verges which should have been maintained by Staffordshire County Council.

This led to an argument over which verges should be cut by whom when some of the villagers obviously reckoned their man could do it better. This led the council into a heated debate over costs!

Cllr Lisa Martin was asked to take the motion forward and by her own admission "not being the sort of person to sit there and nod my head" decided to stir things up a bit. At this point another Cllr proposed a vote for her to be removed from the chamber. When this was passed, she refused to leave and the police were called.

David Shaw, who proposed the vote for her removal said "I joined the council to try to prevent this type of conduct and to bring some order to our sessions, but this proves I have failed miserably!"

Standards, dear boy! Standards...

How to vote tomorrow...

Are you one of the so called 'disconnected' voters? Perhaps you feel 'disengaged' or just plain disinterested?

Well, I've got news for you. If you don't go out and vote tomorrow then I have not sympathy for you. If you don't vote then you have no right to complain. Low turnout simply equals 'Do what you like to me. I'll just roll over and let you get on with it!'

For many years now I have campaigned long and hard for compulsory voting in all UK elections - with the stipulation that there must be a box for 'No suitable candidate' otherwise it becomes meaningless. There is currently no system in the UK for registering dissatisfaction.

So tomorrow, I don't care what party you support or don't support.

If you like the look of the policies of a particular candidate, then vote for that candidate.

But if, like me, you think that politicians in general are a money grabbing, irresponsible, self-centred, lying, cheating pain in the arse who don't give a toss about the electorate, then write 'NO SUITABLE CANDIDATE' across your ballot paper to spoil it.

Only when there is a majority of spoilt ballots in an election might they actually take notice of us.

Not voting is simply giving in...

93 Men in a Boat (11) : The Plum Sucker

Well, I'm back. And thank you very much, I had a very nice trip around the Azores.

And, of course, the problem with trips like this is that there is so much material and just so little time...

"Isn't this boat just absolutely sooopah?" comes the lilting tones of the Plum Sucker aross the bar as you sit there minding your own business and quietly sipping an ice cold beer.

"Oh, bugger!" I think to myself. "Perhaps if I admire my shoes he'll take the hint and go away. Maybe he'll sit somewhere else and inflict himself on a different victim?"

But no. His ancient, ponderous bulk oozes into the chair next to you as he slaps his G&T down onto the table. Mrs D looks across at me with a forlorn look in her eyes which says "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here."

The Plum has landed. You already know the next question. "Have you been on this boat before?" But there is no pause for you to answer. "This is our sixth trip, you know." Well, actually I didn't know and could care even less!

"We live in Surrey, you know?"

"Really", I reply. "Whereabouts?" He informs me has has a house near Gatwick - which the last time I looked was in Sussex, but never mind.

After what seems an eternity of meaningless trivia and one sided banter, I get to the point where I can take no more. I contemplate giving him a 20p coin so he can ring someone who gives a toss, but restrain myself as I remember we are abroad and on a ship ( not a boat, a ship FFS!).

"I seem to be having a problem with your accent", I interject. "Perhaps it would help if you swallowed that plum?"

"Well, really!", he snorts. "The sort of people they let on these boats these days!" and buggers off to annoy someone else.

Job done...

(PS : I did notice that he wasn't present when I dined at the Captain's table at the end of the trip, not did I come across him in Club Class on the flight home)