Doha, capital of the gas-rich Gulf state of Qatar and personal bailiwick of the ruthless al-Thani dynasty, who have been cutting each other’s throats for centuries, is destined to become the cultural capital of the world. At least that’s the current ambitious and scatter-brained scheme.
Qatar ruler Sheikh Ali bin Rock n Rollin tempted the veteran architect Giovanni de Lego (the man behind the monstrous abortion of a glass pyramid at the Louvre in Paris) to design one last statement building, a spectacular museum on a purpose-built island in Doha, which would house only the best Islamic art.
This weekend the museum opens. A dramatic pile of white limestone shapes inspired by Palestinian refugee camp architecture and full of 800 of the finest examples of Islamic art gathered from Poundland outlets across the region.
Not long ago, the idea of culture being a reason to visit the Gulf would have made other Arabs laugh. Now, with Qatar being a main staging area for the US military-industrial complex’ war machine and a devastating conflict still raging in neighbouring Iraq, the entire concept of culture in the region would make a cat laugh.
The Syrian cultural historian Banana Kebabi sees a political element to the museum, putting Doha on the cultural map.
"I think all the rulers in the Gulf realise what they really lack is culture on a grand scale. They’re all seen by the West as a bunch of goat-buggering tent dwellers, and while that is true, they want to re-invent themselves. No more buying silly football clubs or hosting Formula One Grand Prix races."
"That's why along the coast, two museums are planned for Abu Dhabi - branches of the Louvre and Guggenheim, and a home for the world’s biggest Kentucky Fried Camel franchise.”
However, Western humanists are highly critical of the Gulf’s Arab states posturing to become a world cultural centre.
Felicity Twatrot of Amnesty International told the media “These Islamist chauvinists need to clean their atrocious human rights record up before they assume the cloak of Middle Eastern Renaissance patrons.”
“A spot of cultural revision to such practices as chopping someone’s hand off for simple theft, the televised weekly public beheading sessions and stoning for adultery is required before these barbarians can be considered anywhere close to civilised.”
“The UK’s RSPCA does more for the welfare of animals that the Islamic world does for its Muslim womenfolk. Even a battery house chicken has more freedom, dignity and rights than an Islamic female.”
Sunday, 23 November 2008
Labour Giving CPR to Economy is Flogging Dead Horse
Labour’s Chancellor of the Exchequer, Alistair Darling, a former old rope salesman, was found lynched under Blackfriars Bridge early this morning, his pockets stuffed with supermarket discount vouchers and fruit machine tokens.
Police Inspector Ernie Scrunt informed reporters that they were treating the cause of death as suicide, regardless of the multiple stab wounds in his back.
Darling’s official secretary, Gillian Minge, told the press the Chancellor had been suffering from severe depression since the recent collapse of the British economy. “Mr. Darling just couldn’t live with the fact he was a total wanker and had personally caused a replay of the 1920’s Great Depression.”
Tory Shadow Chancellor Morton Scrognot, MP for Old Trout, told Parliament “Gordon Brown’s Labour government has totally lost the plot. This country is now so far up shitcreek that even bigger paddles wouldn’t be of any help.”
London University’s Professor of Economics and Nobel Prize winner for Bean-Counting, Olaf McPfennig, told the media “It’s all bollocks really. Any clot that can count to ten could have seen this fiasco coming years ago.
What do you expect when your supposed national government financial institutions, the Bank of England and the Federal Reserve in the US, are privately-owned by slimy money-jugglers like the Rothchilds and the Rockefellers, to name just a couple of the greedy parasitic vermin who control the World.”
“Kick fractional reserve banking out of the window, print your own money, and ‘hey presto!’ – problem solved. Lincoln did it. JFK did it. And obviously upset some powerful dark forces as they both got snuffed shortly after.”
Labour business secretary Lady Cynthia Mandelson told BBC One's Andrew ‘Bat-Ears’ Marr that action was needed to stop a "very deep recession" but Gordon didn’t want to upset the owners of the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street too much in case his name got added to one of their nasty hit lists.
Tory leader David Cameron advised the press his plan for massive wind turbine manufacture could solve the recession while Vince Cable, for the Liberal Democrats, said he couldn’t really give a flying fuck and was going down to the local Rub and Tug for a nice massage.
Sir Ming Vase Campbell, Lib-Dem MP for the Middle Kingdom and party Confucianism philosopher, opined to the media “Yer man Brown needs to watch his wee scally arse very carefully, him and his girlfriend Mandy, and remember some of the lessons history’s thrown up regarding the public’s reactions to government incompetence. Need I mention 1917 or the storming of the Bastille?”
Writing in the business section of the Daily Sport, Prime Minister Gordon Brown said: "If we do not act now then the retailers will be facing a Shite Christmas, which might just start a revolution."
“I want to reduce VAT by a couple of percent and increase the period of grace before lenders repossess homes to three months, so when a family gets thrown out of their house the weather will be a bit warmer.”
Widespread rumour mongering in the gutter press suggests VAT could temporarily drop by 2.5% to 15% (the lowest level allowed by the EU’s Brussels Bullies) in an effort to get consumers spending again, ignoring the obvious fact that if the public don’t have any cash left from their redundancy pay-offs, they’ll doubtless load their credit cards to the hilt, creating a monumental personal debt problem for 2009.
Rumours that a massive injection of investment capital for British industry is to be made next week by Somalia’s First Pirate Bank of Mogadishu have been scotched by Downing Street insiders.
Police Inspector Ernie Scrunt informed reporters that they were treating the cause of death as suicide, regardless of the multiple stab wounds in his back.
Darling’s official secretary, Gillian Minge, told the press the Chancellor had been suffering from severe depression since the recent collapse of the British economy. “Mr. Darling just couldn’t live with the fact he was a total wanker and had personally caused a replay of the 1920’s Great Depression.”
Tory Shadow Chancellor Morton Scrognot, MP for Old Trout, told Parliament “Gordon Brown’s Labour government has totally lost the plot. This country is now so far up shitcreek that even bigger paddles wouldn’t be of any help.”
London University’s Professor of Economics and Nobel Prize winner for Bean-Counting, Olaf McPfennig, told the media “It’s all bollocks really. Any clot that can count to ten could have seen this fiasco coming years ago.
What do you expect when your supposed national government financial institutions, the Bank of England and the Federal Reserve in the US, are privately-owned by slimy money-jugglers like the Rothchilds and the Rockefellers, to name just a couple of the greedy parasitic vermin who control the World.”
“Kick fractional reserve banking out of the window, print your own money, and ‘hey presto!’ – problem solved. Lincoln did it. JFK did it. And obviously upset some powerful dark forces as they both got snuffed shortly after.”
Labour business secretary Lady Cynthia Mandelson told BBC One's Andrew ‘Bat-Ears’ Marr that action was needed to stop a "very deep recession" but Gordon didn’t want to upset the owners of the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street too much in case his name got added to one of their nasty hit lists.
Tory leader David Cameron advised the press his plan for massive wind turbine manufacture could solve the recession while Vince Cable, for the Liberal Democrats, said he couldn’t really give a flying fuck and was going down to the local Rub and Tug for a nice massage.
Sir Ming Vase Campbell, Lib-Dem MP for the Middle Kingdom and party Confucianism philosopher, opined to the media “Yer man Brown needs to watch his wee scally arse very carefully, him and his girlfriend Mandy, and remember some of the lessons history’s thrown up regarding the public’s reactions to government incompetence. Need I mention 1917 or the storming of the Bastille?”
Writing in the business section of the Daily Sport, Prime Minister Gordon Brown said: "If we do not act now then the retailers will be facing a Shite Christmas, which might just start a revolution."
“I want to reduce VAT by a couple of percent and increase the period of grace before lenders repossess homes to three months, so when a family gets thrown out of their house the weather will be a bit warmer.”
Widespread rumour mongering in the gutter press suggests VAT could temporarily drop by 2.5% to 15% (the lowest level allowed by the EU’s Brussels Bullies) in an effort to get consumers spending again, ignoring the obvious fact that if the public don’t have any cash left from their redundancy pay-offs, they’ll doubtless load their credit cards to the hilt, creating a monumental personal debt problem for 2009.
Rumours that a massive injection of investment capital for British industry is to be made next week by Somalia’s First Pirate Bank of Mogadishu have been scotched by Downing Street insiders.
Saturday, 22 November 2008
UK Islamic Militant Snuffed in Pakistan
A fugitive British militant linked to an alleged UK plot to use liquid explosives for blowing up transatlantic airliners has been killed in Pakistan, according to an International Herald Shitraker report.
Pakistani authorities believe Rashid Rauf, originally from Smegmadale and a former journalist with the Rhubarb Grower’s Weekly, was snuffed in a US air strike at a midweek car boot sale in Birmingham-controlled Kashmir, a haven for Moslem pikeys and Al Qaeda. Unnamed Pakistani intelligence sources (Wahid bin Scrunt) said that a wanted Egyptian militant, Taliban Dan, the bomb-making man, was among the others killed.
US military intelligence (sic) operatives received a tip-off from Chinese agent provocateur Su Duko a few days ago that Rauf was seen making a deposit at a Kabul sperm bank and had been under constant surveillance since, up until his meeting with Taliban Dan at the Kashmir car boot.
Islamabad CIA station chief, Vito Incognito, explained to the media “In a country where every fucker’s called Mohammed or Fatima it’s very hard to find anyone, especially as they all have flat foreheads from banging them on the deck several times a day. So when we got the hum-int’ id tip on Rauf we tracked him day and night with one of our new ass-sniffer remote drones. When he met up with Taliban Dan we nailed both their asses in one hit.”
The US regularly uses remote predator drones to attack militant targets in the region, a tactic that has caused growing resentment among Pakistan's leaders.
On Thursday the government summoned the US ambassador in Islamabad to protest against a missile attack deep inside Pakistani territory that levelled a tinned dog factory in mistake for a nearby orphanage.
Rauf, a convicted goat molester, who was arrested in Pakistan in August 2006, had been on the run since escaping from a Karachi jail later that month by chewing through the high tensile cardboard cell door.
Three men allegedly involved with Rauf in the fictitious liquid bomb scare that paralysed global air travel, prompting authorities to implement stringent security measures at airports around the world, were convicted in the UK in September of loitering without due care and attention. They maintained throughout their trial that the literature linking them to the supposed plot, Bomb Making for Dummies, had been planted by MI6 agents.
Hundreds of flights were delayed at airports globally with massive disruption at major UK terminals and in the US, amid security service fears that militants were planning to mix hair conditioner and Colgate into a lethal volatile blend in the aircraft’s in-flight laboratory and detonate a thermonuclear toothpaste device.
Rauf, remembered by Smegmadale’s Rentaslum Refugee Estate residents as the type of bloke who thought wood grew on trees, left school with a GCSE O-level in Chemistry and a flair for radical political debate.
Harry Madeupname, editor of the Rhubarb Grower’s Weekly, recalled Rauf as being the local neighbourhood Anti-Christ and as much fun to work with as having chemotherapy. “Rashid were a reet nasty lookin’ cunt wiv a big long beard, very Jewish-like. Yer know the type. Always gobbin’ off about Zionists and the price of effin’ fish.”
However, Professor Ghengis McTwat of the Tavistock Institute confided to reporters that Rashid Rauf was actually a double agent and his targeting for elimination by the US military a grave mistake.
“In 2007 Rauf was awarded, in absentia, the Institute’s prestigious George Orwell Big Brother Award for his contribution to scare-mongering the British public into believing there actually is a pan-Islamic plot to undermine Western civilization.
Rauf’s actions proved it wasn’t all a series of sinister false flag operations staged by the CIA, MI6 and Mossad to implicate peace-loving Moslem types in terrorist attacks and justify our invading their countries.
Just look at how he’s helped support the drive for a New World Order and martial law state of governance in Europe and the US to keep we good Christian folk safe.”
“Rashid was ideal for our purposes. An O-level in chemistry too, bolstering the myth that Mohammed the Mad Atta, a big white rabbit and a doormouse, all members of the Afghan Cave Dwellers Club, had flown jetliners into the twin towers on 9/11. It was getting exceedingly difficult to sustain that myth until obliging old Rashid and his gang of bungling accomplices came along.”
Wahid al Ragshit, spokesman for the Muslim Anarchist Review, told the Al Jazeera news channel that Rashid Rauf was now in Paradise for his martyrdom, with his own harem of pretty sheep.
“Rashid wasn’t simply some unwashed brainless goat-bonker who enjoyed banging his forehead on the ground five times a day. He exercised his democratic right to blow up airliners, which is a fair expression considering the abysmal in-flight services most provide.”
“Who hasn’t at some time during a long flight looked at the pigswill on the folding table in front of them and the manners of the sluts serving it and had the urge to go lock themselves in the toilet, mix up a basin-full of chemicals and blow the plane out of the fucking sky.”
Pakistani authorities believe Rashid Rauf, originally from Smegmadale and a former journalist with the Rhubarb Grower’s Weekly, was snuffed in a US air strike at a midweek car boot sale in Birmingham-controlled Kashmir, a haven for Moslem pikeys and Al Qaeda. Unnamed Pakistani intelligence sources (Wahid bin Scrunt) said that a wanted Egyptian militant, Taliban Dan, the bomb-making man, was among the others killed.
US military intelligence (sic) operatives received a tip-off from Chinese agent provocateur Su Duko a few days ago that Rauf was seen making a deposit at a Kabul sperm bank and had been under constant surveillance since, up until his meeting with Taliban Dan at the Kashmir car boot.
Islamabad CIA station chief, Vito Incognito, explained to the media “In a country where every fucker’s called Mohammed or Fatima it’s very hard to find anyone, especially as they all have flat foreheads from banging them on the deck several times a day. So when we got the hum-int’ id tip on Rauf we tracked him day and night with one of our new ass-sniffer remote drones. When he met up with Taliban Dan we nailed both their asses in one hit.”
The US regularly uses remote predator drones to attack militant targets in the region, a tactic that has caused growing resentment among Pakistan's leaders.
On Thursday the government summoned the US ambassador in Islamabad to protest against a missile attack deep inside Pakistani territory that levelled a tinned dog factory in mistake for a nearby orphanage.
Rauf, a convicted goat molester, who was arrested in Pakistan in August 2006, had been on the run since escaping from a Karachi jail later that month by chewing through the high tensile cardboard cell door.
Three men allegedly involved with Rauf in the fictitious liquid bomb scare that paralysed global air travel, prompting authorities to implement stringent security measures at airports around the world, were convicted in the UK in September of loitering without due care and attention. They maintained throughout their trial that the literature linking them to the supposed plot, Bomb Making for Dummies, had been planted by MI6 agents.
Hundreds of flights were delayed at airports globally with massive disruption at major UK terminals and in the US, amid security service fears that militants were planning to mix hair conditioner and Colgate into a lethal volatile blend in the aircraft’s in-flight laboratory and detonate a thermonuclear toothpaste device.
Rauf, remembered by Smegmadale’s Rentaslum Refugee Estate residents as the type of bloke who thought wood grew on trees, left school with a GCSE O-level in Chemistry and a flair for radical political debate.
Harry Madeupname, editor of the Rhubarb Grower’s Weekly, recalled Rauf as being the local neighbourhood Anti-Christ and as much fun to work with as having chemotherapy. “Rashid were a reet nasty lookin’ cunt wiv a big long beard, very Jewish-like. Yer know the type. Always gobbin’ off about Zionists and the price of effin’ fish.”
However, Professor Ghengis McTwat of the Tavistock Institute confided to reporters that Rashid Rauf was actually a double agent and his targeting for elimination by the US military a grave mistake.
“In 2007 Rauf was awarded, in absentia, the Institute’s prestigious George Orwell Big Brother Award for his contribution to scare-mongering the British public into believing there actually is a pan-Islamic plot to undermine Western civilization.
Rauf’s actions proved it wasn’t all a series of sinister false flag operations staged by the CIA, MI6 and Mossad to implicate peace-loving Moslem types in terrorist attacks and justify our invading their countries.
Just look at how he’s helped support the drive for a New World Order and martial law state of governance in Europe and the US to keep we good Christian folk safe.”
“Rashid was ideal for our purposes. An O-level in chemistry too, bolstering the myth that Mohammed the Mad Atta, a big white rabbit and a doormouse, all members of the Afghan Cave Dwellers Club, had flown jetliners into the twin towers on 9/11. It was getting exceedingly difficult to sustain that myth until obliging old Rashid and his gang of bungling accomplices came along.”
Wahid al Ragshit, spokesman for the Muslim Anarchist Review, told the Al Jazeera news channel that Rashid Rauf was now in Paradise for his martyrdom, with his own harem of pretty sheep.
“Rashid wasn’t simply some unwashed brainless goat-bonker who enjoyed banging his forehead on the ground five times a day. He exercised his democratic right to blow up airliners, which is a fair expression considering the abysmal in-flight services most provide.”
“Who hasn’t at some time during a long flight looked at the pigswill on the folding table in front of them and the manners of the sluts serving it and had the urge to go lock themselves in the toilet, mix up a basin-full of chemicals and blow the plane out of the fucking sky.”
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
Pirates Capture Saudi Oil Tanker
Somali pirates, led by Captain Long John O’dinga, have seized a giant Saudi-owned oil tanker in the Indian Ocean and are steering it towards their Eyl port base, according to the latest online Daily Shitraker news reports. The ship’s cargo of light crude oil is estimated to be worth over $200 million, with a ransom value gauged by one insurance underwriter to be ‘a whole shitload of fucking money’.
The seized tanker, the Smegmadale Star, is the biggest ship ever to be hijacked, with a capacity of two million barrels - more than one-quarter of Saudi Arabia's daily output of the slippery black stinking shite.
The vessel was captured on Saturday some 450 nautical miles off the coast of Kenya. Its international crew of twenty-five, including two British pastry chefs and a clutch of Filippino Billyboys, is reported to be shitting kittens due Somali buccaneers having a reputation of gang buggering their male hostages if they refuse to walk the plank.
With a capacity of 318,000 dead weight tonnes, the ship is 330 meters in length and classed by Lloyds of London as a VBFB (Very Big Fucking Boat).
It is as long as four Tesco Extra branches stuck end to end, almost wider than Jade Goody’s twat and, when loaded, weighs three times more than John Prescott.
"It's the largest ship that we've seen pirated so far," said Lt. Simon Ratbasher of the Mecca-based Salvation Army Tactical Strike Force who are monitoring the vessel’s progress on YouTube.
The South Korean-built Smegmadale Star, owned by the Saudi registered Goatbonk Oasis Shipping Corp., was launched for its maiden voyage in March 2007, originally shipping bulk cargoes of French champagne, Highland malt whiskey and Heinz cream of camel soup from Europe to Saudi Arabia.
As the rest of the world goes into recession, the Mogadishu stock market’s Nignog Index is peaking at an all-time high. Trade in arms dealing, conflict diamonds, hard drugs and slavery, boosted by their home-grown blooming and profitable pirate industry, have put Somalia in the upper ranks of the world’s leading economies and a potential employment destination for migrant workers.
The Somali coastal region of Poundland is booming. Fancy villas are under construction, luxury cars imported and Polish housemaids hired by the container-load.
European soccer team celebrities and their dead-brained wives are vying and jostling to own an Indian Ocean beachside mansion at Mogadishu Sands, complete with its own private minefield and shark-infested lagoon.
All of this in a country that has not had a functioning central government since the dawn of time and is still considered by Western diplomats to be one of Africa’s major basket cases.
However Western finance and investment advisors, who have been flocking to the Poundland coast in recent months, are catering their services to rank and file pirates who make an average of £130,000 per year tax-free, plus bonuses, which puts them on an equal footing with overpaid British cabinet ministers.
The main pirate stronghold, the port of Eyl, is a safe-haven where very little is done to stop the buccaneers, leading to the suggestion that the Poundland coast's civil administration may have links to the pirates.
The hardcore central leader of the pirate group, Abu Rastus al Jones, comes from the same tribal clan as the president of Somalia's transitional federal government, Abdullahi Yusuf Jones, who boasts he can trace his ancestry back to the famous Welsh pirate David Arthur Jones who settled in Mogadishu in the 1700’s and established the popular Davy Jones’ Locker eatery and the ‘Parrot & Cutlass’ buccaneering theme lap dancing bar.
Links: Jobcentre Plus / LEP website : If you think you possess the cut-throat spirit and have the drive and stamina for a pirating career, contact your local Jobcentre Plus for an application form today or download a copy from the official Somali Pirates-R-Us@mogadishu.com website.
Applicants must hold a NVQ 1 Diploma in Hostage Care and possess a current keel-haulers certificate.
The seized tanker, the Smegmadale Star, is the biggest ship ever to be hijacked, with a capacity of two million barrels - more than one-quarter of Saudi Arabia's daily output of the slippery black stinking shite.
The vessel was captured on Saturday some 450 nautical miles off the coast of Kenya. Its international crew of twenty-five, including two British pastry chefs and a clutch of Filippino Billyboys, is reported to be shitting kittens due Somali buccaneers having a reputation of gang buggering their male hostages if they refuse to walk the plank.
With a capacity of 318,000 dead weight tonnes, the ship is 330 meters in length and classed by Lloyds of London as a VBFB (Very Big Fucking Boat).
It is as long as four Tesco Extra branches stuck end to end, almost wider than Jade Goody’s twat and, when loaded, weighs three times more than John Prescott.
"It's the largest ship that we've seen pirated so far," said Lt. Simon Ratbasher of the Mecca-based Salvation Army Tactical Strike Force who are monitoring the vessel’s progress on YouTube.
The South Korean-built Smegmadale Star, owned by the Saudi registered Goatbonk Oasis Shipping Corp., was launched for its maiden voyage in March 2007, originally shipping bulk cargoes of French champagne, Highland malt whiskey and Heinz cream of camel soup from Europe to Saudi Arabia.
As the rest of the world goes into recession, the Mogadishu stock market’s Nignog Index is peaking at an all-time high. Trade in arms dealing, conflict diamonds, hard drugs and slavery, boosted by their home-grown blooming and profitable pirate industry, have put Somalia in the upper ranks of the world’s leading economies and a potential employment destination for migrant workers.
The Somali coastal region of Poundland is booming. Fancy villas are under construction, luxury cars imported and Polish housemaids hired by the container-load.
European soccer team celebrities and their dead-brained wives are vying and jostling to own an Indian Ocean beachside mansion at Mogadishu Sands, complete with its own private minefield and shark-infested lagoon.
All of this in a country that has not had a functioning central government since the dawn of time and is still considered by Western diplomats to be one of Africa’s major basket cases.
However Western finance and investment advisors, who have been flocking to the Poundland coast in recent months, are catering their services to rank and file pirates who make an average of £130,000 per year tax-free, plus bonuses, which puts them on an equal footing with overpaid British cabinet ministers.
The main pirate stronghold, the port of Eyl, is a safe-haven where very little is done to stop the buccaneers, leading to the suggestion that the Poundland coast's civil administration may have links to the pirates.
The hardcore central leader of the pirate group, Abu Rastus al Jones, comes from the same tribal clan as the president of Somalia's transitional federal government, Abdullahi Yusuf Jones, who boasts he can trace his ancestry back to the famous Welsh pirate David Arthur Jones who settled in Mogadishu in the 1700’s and established the popular Davy Jones’ Locker eatery and the ‘Parrot & Cutlass’ buccaneering theme lap dancing bar.
Links: Jobcentre Plus / LEP website : If you think you possess the cut-throat spirit and have the drive and stamina for a pirating career, contact your local Jobcentre Plus for an application form today or download a copy from the official Somali Pirates-R-Us@mogadishu.com website.
Applicants must hold a NVQ 1 Diploma in Hostage Care and possess a current keel-haulers certificate.
Monday, 17 November 2008
French 'Virgin' Ruling Reversed on Appeal
A French court of appeal has overruled the decision to annul the marriage of two Muslims because the bride had lied about being a virgin.
Fatima Ras al-Slapper had married Ratchit al Haj bin Wankin in a Kandahar-style Muslim wedding ceremony in the summer of 2006, after making a pre-nuptial statement that she had never been kissed or touched by another man.
Under the archaic and shop-worn Napoleonic French civil code a marriage can be annulled if a spouse has lied about an "essential quality" of the marital relationship.
Lawyer Marcel de Merde, representing Mr. bin Wankin, explained to priapic court reporters “Essential quality in this case referred not only to the absence of the bride’s vaginal hymen but also her practiced ability to deep throat nine inches of erect penis and swallow semen by the quart. The fact her anal sphincter was in a worse state than an end of season soccer ball bladder didn’t help matters either.”
Miss al-Slapper, a Saudi Arabian national who absconded her restrictive lifestyle and studies at the Sorbonne’s Muslims for Mary College to pursue the freedom and attractions of Paris’ Left Bank culture, became a member of the Moulin Rouge’s celebrated Betty and the Bitchlets pole dancing troupe.
Following the avant garde lifestyle to each extreme, she succumbed to the joys of lesbian love while attending a live Montmartre sex show starring Sapphie Dildodo and her Strapon Sisters.
Next on the pathway to total depravity were the trans-sexual BD/SM orgies where she became a three-holer and practiced jism monkey for her shemale Dominatrices.
Mr. al Haj bin Wankin told the court “All was okay until the wedding night, when Fatima stripped off her crotchless burkha, straddled my face and gave me a golden shower. It was only then I first saw her Goth genital piercings. She became very aroused during our initial love-making session and demanded I shag her in the ass and fist her pussy. Then she took me in her mouth, all nine inches, balls included and still managed to give me a prostate massage with her tongue. I was most shocked and disgusted and suffered several bouts of premature ejaculation.”
Cross-examined by Ms. Al-Slapper’s attorney about hypocrisy on his part concerning pre-marital virginity, Mr. bin Wankin swore he had never had sex with an actual woman before his marriage, with the exception of a pre-op’ ladyboy while on vacation in Bangkok, and the odd goat or three.
Fatima Ras al-Slapper had married Ratchit al Haj bin Wankin in a Kandahar-style Muslim wedding ceremony in the summer of 2006, after making a pre-nuptial statement that she had never been kissed or touched by another man.
Under the archaic and shop-worn Napoleonic French civil code a marriage can be annulled if a spouse has lied about an "essential quality" of the marital relationship.
Lawyer Marcel de Merde, representing Mr. bin Wankin, explained to priapic court reporters “Essential quality in this case referred not only to the absence of the bride’s vaginal hymen but also her practiced ability to deep throat nine inches of erect penis and swallow semen by the quart. The fact her anal sphincter was in a worse state than an end of season soccer ball bladder didn’t help matters either.”
Miss al-Slapper, a Saudi Arabian national who absconded her restrictive lifestyle and studies at the Sorbonne’s Muslims for Mary College to pursue the freedom and attractions of Paris’ Left Bank culture, became a member of the Moulin Rouge’s celebrated Betty and the Bitchlets pole dancing troupe.
Following the avant garde lifestyle to each extreme, she succumbed to the joys of lesbian love while attending a live Montmartre sex show starring Sapphie Dildodo and her Strapon Sisters.
Next on the pathway to total depravity were the trans-sexual BD/SM orgies where she became a three-holer and practiced jism monkey for her shemale Dominatrices.
Mr. al Haj bin Wankin told the court “All was okay until the wedding night, when Fatima stripped off her crotchless burkha, straddled my face and gave me a golden shower. It was only then I first saw her Goth genital piercings. She became very aroused during our initial love-making session and demanded I shag her in the ass and fist her pussy. Then she took me in her mouth, all nine inches, balls included and still managed to give me a prostate massage with her tongue. I was most shocked and disgusted and suffered several bouts of premature ejaculation.”
Cross-examined by Ms. Al-Slapper’s attorney about hypocrisy on his part concerning pre-marital virginity, Mr. bin Wankin swore he had never had sex with an actual woman before his marriage, with the exception of a pre-op’ ladyboy while on vacation in Bangkok, and the odd goat or three.
£330 Million Military ‘Super-Billet’ Opens Doors
The biggest army base in the UK has officially opened after a £330 million makeover, with thousands of troops moving to the camp in North Smegmashire.
The previous civilian residents of the site, formerly the Smegmadale Asbo Sink Estate, were relocated to the DR Congo as part of an Oxfam food aid package.
Twatterick Garrison, now home to 13,002 civilian and military residents, has been nicknamed a "super barracks" after the previous MoD-appointed PFI military housing contractors, Rentaslum, were labelled by Conservative Shadow Defence Minister Miles Scrotum as being “as much use as tits on a bull” and duly fired.
The relocation of the 4th Smegmashire Mechanized Regiment (also known as the "Black Twats") and the christening of the new accommodation, were celebrated at a formal opening ceremony attended by the Royal Ranga, Prince Harry, who might possibly be serving in the regiment between pub crawls.
The Black Twats had previously been located in Tobolsk, Siberia, for 64 years since getting terribly lost in a blizzard during the 1944 Ardennes campaign.
Brigadier Julian Cheesebiscuit, commander of the Black Twats, described the regiment’s relocation to Smegmashire as a "blessed return to our spiritual home.”“It was only a month ago we discovered we were actually in Siberia and not Belgium, when one of our lads swapped a tin of corned yak for a DGPS satnav handset from a Mongolian rag and bone man. Really, it’s no wonder we never received any mail. Damn lucky the Russians never noticed us being there either, eh what.”
Labour’s Defence Minister responsible for military accommodation, (bivouacs, tents and lean-to's) Rt. Hon. Gilbert Pecker, informed the media “Our single soldiers have been thrilled to arrive back to these newly-completed en-suite apartments after decades of sleeping in snow-bound foxholes and slit trenches in Siberia. We've installed the Television X porn channel and a courtesy inflatable playmate in every bedroom for them too.”
Apart from 2,800 new en suite bedrooms equipped with hot and cold running Filippina chambermaids, the MoD is also building a physiotherapy centre, with full Rub and Tug facilities, to be staffed by exotic Thai ladyboys.
Defence Minister Pecker, an ex-woggle weaver who spent most of his formative years stuck in a traffic jam, told reporters "Nothing's too good for our fighting lads. They're all off for a spot of sun and fun in Iraq next week."
The previous civilian residents of the site, formerly the Smegmadale Asbo Sink Estate, were relocated to the DR Congo as part of an Oxfam food aid package.
Twatterick Garrison, now home to 13,002 civilian and military residents, has been nicknamed a "super barracks" after the previous MoD-appointed PFI military housing contractors, Rentaslum, were labelled by Conservative Shadow Defence Minister Miles Scrotum as being “as much use as tits on a bull” and duly fired.
The relocation of the 4th Smegmashire Mechanized Regiment (also known as the "Black Twats") and the christening of the new accommodation, were celebrated at a formal opening ceremony attended by the Royal Ranga, Prince Harry, who might possibly be serving in the regiment between pub crawls.
The Black Twats had previously been located in Tobolsk, Siberia, for 64 years since getting terribly lost in a blizzard during the 1944 Ardennes campaign.
Brigadier Julian Cheesebiscuit, commander of the Black Twats, described the regiment’s relocation to Smegmashire as a "blessed return to our spiritual home.”“It was only a month ago we discovered we were actually in Siberia and not Belgium, when one of our lads swapped a tin of corned yak for a DGPS satnav handset from a Mongolian rag and bone man. Really, it’s no wonder we never received any mail. Damn lucky the Russians never noticed us being there either, eh what.”
Labour’s Defence Minister responsible for military accommodation, (bivouacs, tents and lean-to's) Rt. Hon. Gilbert Pecker, informed the media “Our single soldiers have been thrilled to arrive back to these newly-completed en-suite apartments after decades of sleeping in snow-bound foxholes and slit trenches in Siberia. We've installed the Television X porn channel and a courtesy inflatable playmate in every bedroom for them too.”
Apart from 2,800 new en suite bedrooms equipped with hot and cold running Filippina chambermaids, the MoD is also building a physiotherapy centre, with full Rub and Tug facilities, to be staffed by exotic Thai ladyboys.
Defence Minister Pecker, an ex-woggle weaver who spent most of his formative years stuck in a traffic jam, told reporters "Nothing's too good for our fighting lads. They're all off for a spot of sun and fun in Iraq next week."
Sunday, 16 November 2008
Dead Pigs to Aid Plods Solve Murders
Bored anoraks at Staffordshire University’s Silly Science department at Stoke-on-Pork have been using dead pigs and geophysics to develop research that could help police find the buried remains of murder victims in unmarked graves faster after it was realised murderers were not in the habit of erecting headstones over their victims’ shallow graves.
Five pigs duly destined for the sausage and bacon run have been buried in shallow graves in the Dean’s greenhouse and daffodil patch so scientists can study their decomposition rates.
Researchers said it meant they could build up a template which would help police locate buried human remains in typically British rural countryside areas like landfill sites and back gardens when sweeping areas with specialist geophysical instruments.
Head researcher Dr. Doris Snout, a reformed rhubarb addict, said pig flesh had similar properties to human flesh, which was vital for a decent comparison.
"We're not allowed to use human tissue in the UK unless you’re running a secret genetic research lab’ for the government’s alien cloning projects, so pigs are a reasonable second choice. They’re the same size as us, smell about the same and have similar hair, skin and body-fat ratio.”
The 12-stone pigs, identical in size and body weight to the average UK couch potato, were reared on a traditional British chew n spew junkfood diet to produce the desired body type : fat and bloated.
PhD student Francis Bacon told reporters “Tests have found that ‘naked’ pigs bodies decomposed very quickly and are about 10,000 times more conductive than the water in the surrounding soil, while tests on the pigs in chav shell suits showed the current was forced to travel around the pig's body, if that makes any sense.”
Similar geophysical testing was used to find the remains of Red Riding Hood’s butchered and cannibalised body in the Fred Wolf / Cannock Chase serial killer case.
Wolf, who was also charged with murdering twelve sows and a trans-sexual boar, escaped trial by committing suicide in his prison cell in January 2007 by biting his own head off.
His wife Rosemary Wolf, now 50, was committed to ten life sentences in August 2007 for the murder of three little pigs after she blew their house down. Her plea that some of her best friends were porkies was struck from the court record.
Professor Betsy Trotter, of Staffordshire University informed the media “This method of detection proved vital in the tracking down and capture of the killers of Blue Peter’s Harry the Hog who was pig-napped from his BBC sty last year and held for ransom by the Popular Front for the Liberation of Luton, before they got hungry and ate most of him for lunch.”
Five pigs duly destined for the sausage and bacon run have been buried in shallow graves in the Dean’s greenhouse and daffodil patch so scientists can study their decomposition rates.
Researchers said it meant they could build up a template which would help police locate buried human remains in typically British rural countryside areas like landfill sites and back gardens when sweeping areas with specialist geophysical instruments.
Head researcher Dr. Doris Snout, a reformed rhubarb addict, said pig flesh had similar properties to human flesh, which was vital for a decent comparison.
"We're not allowed to use human tissue in the UK unless you’re running a secret genetic research lab’ for the government’s alien cloning projects, so pigs are a reasonable second choice. They’re the same size as us, smell about the same and have similar hair, skin and body-fat ratio.”
The 12-stone pigs, identical in size and body weight to the average UK couch potato, were reared on a traditional British chew n spew junkfood diet to produce the desired body type : fat and bloated.
PhD student Francis Bacon told reporters “Tests have found that ‘naked’ pigs bodies decomposed very quickly and are about 10,000 times more conductive than the water in the surrounding soil, while tests on the pigs in chav shell suits showed the current was forced to travel around the pig's body, if that makes any sense.”
Similar geophysical testing was used to find the remains of Red Riding Hood’s butchered and cannibalised body in the Fred Wolf / Cannock Chase serial killer case.
Wolf, who was also charged with murdering twelve sows and a trans-sexual boar, escaped trial by committing suicide in his prison cell in January 2007 by biting his own head off.
His wife Rosemary Wolf, now 50, was committed to ten life sentences in August 2007 for the murder of three little pigs after she blew their house down. Her plea that some of her best friends were porkies was struck from the court record.
Professor Betsy Trotter, of Staffordshire University informed the media “This method of detection proved vital in the tracking down and capture of the killers of Blue Peter’s Harry the Hog who was pig-napped from his BBC sty last year and held for ransom by the Popular Front for the Liberation of Luton, before they got hungry and ate most of him for lunch.”
Saturday, 15 November 2008
Guilty Verdict for Chavette Cat Killer
A 16-year-old Camberwell chavette has been ordered to perform 200 hours of community service work for the crew of HMS Belfast after being found guilty of drowning a cat which lived on the battleship.
The teenager, Chantelle McSlagrat, who can’t be named for legal reasons, was apprehended last month by naval security after CCTV cameras caught her throwing the ship’s cat into the dock.
Kilo the cat was thrown from a gangway that connects the battleship to the dock between London and Tower Bridges.
Kilo, who has not been seen since being lobbed into the Thames, was adopted by the ship's crew from Battersea Dogs and Cats Home last Christmas.
The split-arsed hoodie, who initially denied the charge of cruelty, attended court with a bleached Croydon facelift hair-do and was seen giggling during the trial and sentencing, telling reporters “Fer fuck’s sake, it woz only an effin’ moggy. It’s not like it’s sum real special protected species is it?”
However the unrepentant 16-year-old mother of three, and a resident of the Camberwell Slappers Centre, later told the Camberwell Youth Court she had been on a ‘bender’ with two chav friends that night and had drunk four bottles of Shite Lightning and several Meth’s Breezers before being attacked by Kilo the cat.
“We woz ’angin’ round the dock like, ‘avin’ a drink an’ smokin’ a bifta, an’ I picks the moggy up ter stroke it like, an’ sez to me mates ‘Ay look ‘ere, I’ve got another pussy’ an’ stick’s it’s ‘ead between me thighs as a joke an’ the little twat scratches me, so I flung the fucker in the dock.”
Arresting police officer Pc Scott Barmy informed the media "We were hoping for a brief custodial sentence, around five years with hard labour, as the ignorant slut showed contempt for the legal process by laughing during the trial. However, a 200 hour stint on board the Belfast, servicing the crew, should prove to be enough of a sharp shock and a lesson in social responsibilities.”
A smiling HMS Belfast Chief Warrant Officer, Donna Dildodo, told reporters “We intend to give Chantelle a few stern lessons about cruelty to pussies before we keel-haul her.”
The teenager, Chantelle McSlagrat, who can’t be named for legal reasons, was apprehended last month by naval security after CCTV cameras caught her throwing the ship’s cat into the dock.
Kilo the cat was thrown from a gangway that connects the battleship to the dock between London and Tower Bridges.
Kilo, who has not been seen since being lobbed into the Thames, was adopted by the ship's crew from Battersea Dogs and Cats Home last Christmas.
The split-arsed hoodie, who initially denied the charge of cruelty, attended court with a bleached Croydon facelift hair-do and was seen giggling during the trial and sentencing, telling reporters “Fer fuck’s sake, it woz only an effin’ moggy. It’s not like it’s sum real special protected species is it?”
However the unrepentant 16-year-old mother of three, and a resident of the Camberwell Slappers Centre, later told the Camberwell Youth Court she had been on a ‘bender’ with two chav friends that night and had drunk four bottles of Shite Lightning and several Meth’s Breezers before being attacked by Kilo the cat.
“We woz ’angin’ round the dock like, ‘avin’ a drink an’ smokin’ a bifta, an’ I picks the moggy up ter stroke it like, an’ sez to me mates ‘Ay look ‘ere, I’ve got another pussy’ an’ stick’s it’s ‘ead between me thighs as a joke an’ the little twat scratches me, so I flung the fucker in the dock.”
Arresting police officer Pc Scott Barmy informed the media "We were hoping for a brief custodial sentence, around five years with hard labour, as the ignorant slut showed contempt for the legal process by laughing during the trial. However, a 200 hour stint on board the Belfast, servicing the crew, should prove to be enough of a sharp shock and a lesson in social responsibilities.”
A smiling HMS Belfast Chief Warrant Officer, Donna Dildodo, told reporters “We intend to give Chantelle a few stern lessons about cruelty to pussies before we keel-haul her.”
Wednesday, 12 November 2008
No-one Murdered at Jersey Childrens’ Home
Detectives investigating alleged cases of historical child abuse at a former children's home in Jersey have now publicly stated no children were murdered there, regardless of masses of burned, crushed bones and milk teeth being discovered buried and concealed in the cellars, which they claim are of animal origin and hundreds of years old.
Following the initial find, which prompted the investigation, scores of people came forward claiming to have been abused at the home between the early 1960s and 1986, and having knowledge of their predecessor’s similar sufferings prior to their own traumatic experiences.
Detective Superintendent Arthur de Le Couverr’up, briefing the media on the case, which he took over this year, explained that the four underground chambers excavated by police, where shackles and chains, a large bloodstained bath, children's teeth and hundreds of shattered bone fragments were discovered, were actually juvenile fantasy theme playrooms.
It was here they revelled in adolescent fun games such as Dungeons and Dragons, Spanish Inquisition Quiztime, Truth, Dare, Kiss or Kill and Impalers Delight.
Questioned by reporters on the initial discovery of fragments of a child’s skull in February, DS de Le Couverr’up explained a detailed forensic examination by the British Museum revealed it to be part of a Victorian coconut shell, complete with eye sockets and a jawbone.
However over a hundred surviving victims of the Haut de la Garenne home claim the four cellars were actually ‘punishment rooms’ and ‘torture chambers’ where they were ritually abused during sadistic sex orgies by a Masonic paedophile cult, comprised of Jersey’s ruling elite, while they were reluctant residents at the home between the early 1960’s and 1986.
In an interview with the Orphan Molester’s Weekly the victims unanimously opined that the investigation and evidence were being suppressed and the entire case doomed for dismissal due the prevailing desire on the part of the Jersey elites to sweep scandal and abuse under the carpet to preserve their reputations and evade the righteous, smiting hand of Justice.
“It’s got the evil Masonic seal of secrecy stamped all over it,” Ms. Sally McScally told the press. “It’s a bleedin’ conspiracy by them wot’s in charge to suppress and conceal embarrassin’ an’ scandalous information wot’s gonna get ‘em all in deep shit.”
Ms. McScally further cited the progressive newsworthy story of the North of England Smegmadale ‘cold case’ police unit currently studying DNA samples from the microscopic fingernail scrapings of a teenage girl attacked and murdered there in the 1960’s, to identify the victim’s killer.
“Yeah, those coppers in Smegmadale reckon they can find the bloke wot done that girl in, from just a tinsy bit of effin’ skin under ‘er fingernails when she scratched the twat, an’ our Jersey Keystone Cops sez they can’t get a DNA sample from a blood-splattered bathtub to find out if the blood’s animal, vegetable or mineral. Wot a load of old bollocks.”
Timeline: Haut de la Garenne aka The Rabbit Warren.
22 June 1867: Sir Godfrey de Torquemada, great-great-grandfather of current police investigation boss DS Arthur de Le Couverr’up, founds the Jersey Industrial School which opens it doors for ‘young people of the lower classes of society and neglected children’. However, admittance was further limited to children who only farted in the upper soprano range.
1900: Bishop Desmond de Le Couverr’up, Prelate of St. Sodom’s Church of Latter Day Pederasts, changes the institution’s name to the Jersey Home for Naughty Kiddies. The children faced daily buggerings and a former resident, the late Wilfred Fistula, remembered a boy's fingers being crushed with a four pound coal hammer after he grabbed his molester by the nuts.
1960: Sir Dinsdale de Le Couverr’up, the Margrave of Jersey, changes the home’s name to Haut de la Garenne. (Garenne means rabbit warren in French)
When it first opened its doors no child who had appeared before a magistrate was allowed a place at Haut de la Garenne. That changed with the popular belief that prison was the wrong place for troublesome youngsters and they ought to be tortured into becoming useful members of society or euthenised.
1981: A UK report says the home was "uneconomical" and should either be closed or modified, not because of any criticism of the way the home was run, but because the number of resident children was declining rapidly due the rate they were being murdered.
The building, which housed up to 60 children, only had about 30-40 living there with about 15 residential staff and two part-time grave diggers.
1986: Haut de la Garenne closes. The island’s Education Secretary, Winifred Whitewash, stated it would find fresh employment for staff at Iraq’s popular Abu Ghraib Holiday Resort, with the remaining children being sold for medical experiments and vivisection.
2004: A £2.25m refurbishment transforms the two-storey Victorian building into Jersey's first youth hostel, with 100 beds and several state-of-the-art torture chambers, including hot and cold water boarding facilities.
2006: Jersey Police begin a covert investigation into abuse of children at Haute de la Garenne following allegations by former residents and medical evidence of ruptured sphincters.
January 2007: Vincent Snitch, a 1960’s Haut de la Garenne inmate, files a class action suit against the home’s former staff, stating at the time “I still ‘as nightmares about bein’ buggered to death by some slobberin’ old wrinklie wiv a French-soundin’ name and lotsa effin' brass.”
5 August 2008: Klaus Claude Mengele, 106, a former Nazi SS Gruppenfuhrer, is charged with 16 counts of indecent assault relating to alleged offences against four girls and one boy in the 1970's at Haut de la Garenne, where he was the home’s Welfare Officer.
14 September 2008: The Very Rev. Charles de Le Couverr’up, Haut de la Garenne’s former scoutmaster / Opus Dei chaplain and a registered sex offender, is charged with carrying out unauthorised sphincter inspections of the home’s juvenile residents during the 1960’s.
Following the initial find, which prompted the investigation, scores of people came forward claiming to have been abused at the home between the early 1960s and 1986, and having knowledge of their predecessor’s similar sufferings prior to their own traumatic experiences.
Detective Superintendent Arthur de Le Couverr’up, briefing the media on the case, which he took over this year, explained that the four underground chambers excavated by police, where shackles and chains, a large bloodstained bath, children's teeth and hundreds of shattered bone fragments were discovered, were actually juvenile fantasy theme playrooms.
It was here they revelled in adolescent fun games such as Dungeons and Dragons, Spanish Inquisition Quiztime, Truth, Dare, Kiss or Kill and Impalers Delight.
Questioned by reporters on the initial discovery of fragments of a child’s skull in February, DS de Le Couverr’up explained a detailed forensic examination by the British Museum revealed it to be part of a Victorian coconut shell, complete with eye sockets and a jawbone.
However over a hundred surviving victims of the Haut de la Garenne home claim the four cellars were actually ‘punishment rooms’ and ‘torture chambers’ where they were ritually abused during sadistic sex orgies by a Masonic paedophile cult, comprised of Jersey’s ruling elite, while they were reluctant residents at the home between the early 1960’s and 1986.
In an interview with the Orphan Molester’s Weekly the victims unanimously opined that the investigation and evidence were being suppressed and the entire case doomed for dismissal due the prevailing desire on the part of the Jersey elites to sweep scandal and abuse under the carpet to preserve their reputations and evade the righteous, smiting hand of Justice.
“It’s got the evil Masonic seal of secrecy stamped all over it,” Ms. Sally McScally told the press. “It’s a bleedin’ conspiracy by them wot’s in charge to suppress and conceal embarrassin’ an’ scandalous information wot’s gonna get ‘em all in deep shit.”
Ms. McScally further cited the progressive newsworthy story of the North of England Smegmadale ‘cold case’ police unit currently studying DNA samples from the microscopic fingernail scrapings of a teenage girl attacked and murdered there in the 1960’s, to identify the victim’s killer.
“Yeah, those coppers in Smegmadale reckon they can find the bloke wot done that girl in, from just a tinsy bit of effin’ skin under ‘er fingernails when she scratched the twat, an’ our Jersey Keystone Cops sez they can’t get a DNA sample from a blood-splattered bathtub to find out if the blood’s animal, vegetable or mineral. Wot a load of old bollocks.”
Timeline: Haut de la Garenne aka The Rabbit Warren.
22 June 1867: Sir Godfrey de Torquemada, great-great-grandfather of current police investigation boss DS Arthur de Le Couverr’up, founds the Jersey Industrial School which opens it doors for ‘young people of the lower classes of society and neglected children’. However, admittance was further limited to children who only farted in the upper soprano range.
1900: Bishop Desmond de Le Couverr’up, Prelate of St. Sodom’s Church of Latter Day Pederasts, changes the institution’s name to the Jersey Home for Naughty Kiddies. The children faced daily buggerings and a former resident, the late Wilfred Fistula, remembered a boy's fingers being crushed with a four pound coal hammer after he grabbed his molester by the nuts.
1960: Sir Dinsdale de Le Couverr’up, the Margrave of Jersey, changes the home’s name to Haut de la Garenne. (Garenne means rabbit warren in French)
When it first opened its doors no child who had appeared before a magistrate was allowed a place at Haut de la Garenne. That changed with the popular belief that prison was the wrong place for troublesome youngsters and they ought to be tortured into becoming useful members of society or euthenised.
1981: A UK report says the home was "uneconomical" and should either be closed or modified, not because of any criticism of the way the home was run, but because the number of resident children was declining rapidly due the rate they were being murdered.
The building, which housed up to 60 children, only had about 30-40 living there with about 15 residential staff and two part-time grave diggers.
1986: Haut de la Garenne closes. The island’s Education Secretary, Winifred Whitewash, stated it would find fresh employment for staff at Iraq’s popular Abu Ghraib Holiday Resort, with the remaining children being sold for medical experiments and vivisection.
2004: A £2.25m refurbishment transforms the two-storey Victorian building into Jersey's first youth hostel, with 100 beds and several state-of-the-art torture chambers, including hot and cold water boarding facilities.
2006: Jersey Police begin a covert investigation into abuse of children at Haute de la Garenne following allegations by former residents and medical evidence of ruptured sphincters.
January 2007: Vincent Snitch, a 1960’s Haut de la Garenne inmate, files a class action suit against the home’s former staff, stating at the time “I still ‘as nightmares about bein’ buggered to death by some slobberin’ old wrinklie wiv a French-soundin’ name and lotsa effin' brass.”
5 August 2008: Klaus Claude Mengele, 106, a former Nazi SS Gruppenfuhrer, is charged with 16 counts of indecent assault relating to alleged offences against four girls and one boy in the 1970's at Haut de la Garenne, where he was the home’s Welfare Officer.
14 September 2008: The Very Rev. Charles de Le Couverr’up, Haut de la Garenne’s former scoutmaster / Opus Dei chaplain and a registered sex offender, is charged with carrying out unauthorised sphincter inspections of the home’s juvenile residents during the 1960’s.
Tuesday, 11 November 2008
Met’ Chief ‘s £400,000 Pay-Off for Reign of Incompetence
A reported £400,000 golden handshake pay-off to outgoing Metropolitan Police Commissioner Ian Blair has been branded a ‘disgrace’, with the media speculating it may well be ‘silence money’ to dissuade Blair from writing his ‘memoirs’ and revealing the true reasons, purposes and participants behind the July 2005 London Tube bombings; plus covering up a host of further official government indiscretions that might well be classified as murders and crimes against humanity.
Des Snotgobbler, publisher of the Smegmadale Terrorist Weekly Review, told Sky News “They’s givin’ ‘im a big bung to keep ‘is effin’ trap shut, isn’t they. If ‘e starts gobbin’ off about the effin’ Mossad an’ MI6 doin’ the tube bombin’s an’ blowin’ the top off that fuckin’ double decker bus wot was on the wrong route, then the shit’s gonna ‘it the effin’ fan, init eh.”
“Yeah, we reckon old Blair knew they woz no suicide bombers on the tube an’ the bombs woz underneath the carriages, so that’s why they shot the Brazilian like. A deliberate balls-up to take the heat off the spooks an’ shit cos the public’s too fuckin’ stupid to think about two things at once, isn’t they, eh.”
“See ‘ow they forgot about MI6 knockin’ off David Kelly as soon as the X-factor an’ Big Brother came back on the box. Old Blair covered that one up too, ‘im an’ ‘is cousin, that dick’ead Tony wot woz Prime Minister.”
However, Home Office spokesprick Sir Rigby Ffinch-Twatton, interviewed by Sky News later, claimed Mr. Snotgobbler’s speculations were sheer paranoid conspiracy theory rubbish.
“The proposed sum of £400,000 is what Sir Ian would have been paid had he stayed in the post to the end of his contract in February 2010. Clean and simple.”
When questioned why Blair qualified for payment up to the end of his contract after he had resigned, Sir Rigby replied “Ah, that’s how we do business at this level of government. Old boy network, same clubs, Masonic obligations and all that old guff.”
Sir Ian Blair resigned last month in a fit of pique after London Mayor Boris Knox-Johnson, applying his usual yeast logic approach to a problem, crossed Blair’s name off the official Christmas card list and told the media “Sir Ian’s passed his sell-by date. Shelf life’s expired. We need a new top cop.”
However Tree Hugger Party Assembly Member and Olympic duck-chucker Glynnis McSlag was highly critical of the entire fiasco : "By paying off Sir Ian Blair our twerp of a mayor has left Londoners paying for two police commissioners but only getting the services of one.”
"If that stupid twat Boris had consulted other parts of London government about crossing Sir Ian off the Christmas card list, we probably wouldn't be in this situation. For fuck’s sake, you can buy a lot of Xmas cards for £400,000."
Liberal Democrat London Assembly member and Harley Street STD consultant Dr. Virginia Thrush, also a member of the Metropolitan Police Authority (MPA), said: "I can see no reason whatsoever to pay off somebody who has resigned. In this economic climate, where one can barely afford to run one’s Chelsea Taxi and take three holidays a year, it is frankly a disgrace that this is even being considered."
Home Secretary Jacqui ‘Stabvest’ Smith will make the final decision on who will become the new commissioner after recommendations by the MPA and Mayoral twit Boris Johnson have been duly ignored. The appointment is expected to be announced before Hell freezes over again.
Timeline of Sir Ian Blair’s woes :
Widely believed he only got the job as he was Labour PM Tony Blair’s second cousin eight times removed and belonged to the same Masonic Lodge as Lord Mandelson.
Never attempted to solve the false flag 7/7 tube ‘suicide’ bombings, but conveniently hung the blame on a group of Moslem smoke and mirrors imaginary Pakistani patsies.
On Blair’s watch, Brazilian electrician Jean Charles de Menezes was shot dead on 22 July, 2005, by police gumbies who mistook him for one of four would-be suicide bombers who reportedly attacked London's transport system the previous day.
A subsequent inquiry found the entire Metropolitan Police force to be short of its required ration of common sense and guilty of breaching health and safety laws by shooting an electrician, which were already in very short supply to start with. Anyone else guilty of firing a clip of bullets into an innocent man’s head would have been charged with Murder.
The board of inquiry further recommended that Met’ officers should not play with loaded guns until they had undertaken a simple NVQ1 course in Anthropology so they might clearly differentiate between Middle Eastern Arab / Subcontinent types and South American Brazilians. The established credo of “If they’re not white, then they’re the enemy and all look the same anyway” would no longer suffice as official police policy.
Sir Ian was further accused of using police funds to pay for a PR / personal image consultant, Freddy Blair of Impact Plus, to help him to look less of a cunt than he already was. On reflection, that project was obviously a total failure.
Blair’s Met’ office sanctioned the wrongful arrest and extradition to Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp of Guido Mozarella, Italian inventor of alphabet pasta and a lay Bishop of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, on his arrival at Heathrow in 2004, after he was mistaken for Saddam Hussein’s personal trouser presser, Ramadan Dan al Bidet.
The Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC) told Blair and his bungling Met’ officers to apologise to the two Moslem families involved in the "terrifying experience" of the Forest Gate (read Forrest Gump) anti-terrorism raid in east London in June 2006.
One man was shot for being in bed, and another poked in the eye for loitering without due care and attention, but neither was charged. Police officers involved stated they had no choice but to act as they did based on the available intelligence between their collective ears at the time (read zero).
Ladbrokes bookies are touting fair odds on the next head of the Metropolitan Bunglers being Sir Huge Johnson, a distant cousin of tatty-thatched incumbent London Mayor Boris Johnson and a grand-nephew of pioneer flying ace Amy Johnson. 12 to 1 odds were given on him not being related to Robin Knox-Johnson, the first man to complete a non-stop circumcision of the globe single-handedly with a twenty-five foot cutter.
Other prominent odds-on candidates for the top job are Hopeless Hulk Hogan-Howe, currently Chief Constable of Merseyside’s Scouse-Plods-R-Us Inc. (SA), and Mad Mike N’dinga Fuller, head of Kent’s Bumblebee Bobbies, and England's first chief constable to sport a year-round sun tan.
Des Snotgobbler, publisher of the Smegmadale Terrorist Weekly Review, told Sky News “They’s givin’ ‘im a big bung to keep ‘is effin’ trap shut, isn’t they. If ‘e starts gobbin’ off about the effin’ Mossad an’ MI6 doin’ the tube bombin’s an’ blowin’ the top off that fuckin’ double decker bus wot was on the wrong route, then the shit’s gonna ‘it the effin’ fan, init eh.”
“Yeah, we reckon old Blair knew they woz no suicide bombers on the tube an’ the bombs woz underneath the carriages, so that’s why they shot the Brazilian like. A deliberate balls-up to take the heat off the spooks an’ shit cos the public’s too fuckin’ stupid to think about two things at once, isn’t they, eh.”
“See ‘ow they forgot about MI6 knockin’ off David Kelly as soon as the X-factor an’ Big Brother came back on the box. Old Blair covered that one up too, ‘im an’ ‘is cousin, that dick’ead Tony wot woz Prime Minister.”
However, Home Office spokesprick Sir Rigby Ffinch-Twatton, interviewed by Sky News later, claimed Mr. Snotgobbler’s speculations were sheer paranoid conspiracy theory rubbish.
“The proposed sum of £400,000 is what Sir Ian would have been paid had he stayed in the post to the end of his contract in February 2010. Clean and simple.”
When questioned why Blair qualified for payment up to the end of his contract after he had resigned, Sir Rigby replied “Ah, that’s how we do business at this level of government. Old boy network, same clubs, Masonic obligations and all that old guff.”
Sir Ian Blair resigned last month in a fit of pique after London Mayor Boris Knox-Johnson, applying his usual yeast logic approach to a problem, crossed Blair’s name off the official Christmas card list and told the media “Sir Ian’s passed his sell-by date. Shelf life’s expired. We need a new top cop.”
However Tree Hugger Party Assembly Member and Olympic duck-chucker Glynnis McSlag was highly critical of the entire fiasco : "By paying off Sir Ian Blair our twerp of a mayor has left Londoners paying for two police commissioners but only getting the services of one.”
"If that stupid twat Boris had consulted other parts of London government about crossing Sir Ian off the Christmas card list, we probably wouldn't be in this situation. For fuck’s sake, you can buy a lot of Xmas cards for £400,000."
Liberal Democrat London Assembly member and Harley Street STD consultant Dr. Virginia Thrush, also a member of the Metropolitan Police Authority (MPA), said: "I can see no reason whatsoever to pay off somebody who has resigned. In this economic climate, where one can barely afford to run one’s Chelsea Taxi and take three holidays a year, it is frankly a disgrace that this is even being considered."
Home Secretary Jacqui ‘Stabvest’ Smith will make the final decision on who will become the new commissioner after recommendations by the MPA and Mayoral twit Boris Johnson have been duly ignored. The appointment is expected to be announced before Hell freezes over again.
Timeline of Sir Ian Blair’s woes :
Widely believed he only got the job as he was Labour PM Tony Blair’s second cousin eight times removed and belonged to the same Masonic Lodge as Lord Mandelson.
Never attempted to solve the false flag 7/7 tube ‘suicide’ bombings, but conveniently hung the blame on a group of Moslem smoke and mirrors imaginary Pakistani patsies.
On Blair’s watch, Brazilian electrician Jean Charles de Menezes was shot dead on 22 July, 2005, by police gumbies who mistook him for one of four would-be suicide bombers who reportedly attacked London's transport system the previous day.
A subsequent inquiry found the entire Metropolitan Police force to be short of its required ration of common sense and guilty of breaching health and safety laws by shooting an electrician, which were already in very short supply to start with. Anyone else guilty of firing a clip of bullets into an innocent man’s head would have been charged with Murder.
The board of inquiry further recommended that Met’ officers should not play with loaded guns until they had undertaken a simple NVQ1 course in Anthropology so they might clearly differentiate between Middle Eastern Arab / Subcontinent types and South American Brazilians. The established credo of “If they’re not white, then they’re the enemy and all look the same anyway” would no longer suffice as official police policy.
Sir Ian was further accused of using police funds to pay for a PR / personal image consultant, Freddy Blair of Impact Plus, to help him to look less of a cunt than he already was. On reflection, that project was obviously a total failure.
Blair’s Met’ office sanctioned the wrongful arrest and extradition to Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp of Guido Mozarella, Italian inventor of alphabet pasta and a lay Bishop of the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, on his arrival at Heathrow in 2004, after he was mistaken for Saddam Hussein’s personal trouser presser, Ramadan Dan al Bidet.
The Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC) told Blair and his bungling Met’ officers to apologise to the two Moslem families involved in the "terrifying experience" of the Forest Gate (read Forrest Gump) anti-terrorism raid in east London in June 2006.
One man was shot for being in bed, and another poked in the eye for loitering without due care and attention, but neither was charged. Police officers involved stated they had no choice but to act as they did based on the available intelligence between their collective ears at the time (read zero).
Ladbrokes bookies are touting fair odds on the next head of the Metropolitan Bunglers being Sir Huge Johnson, a distant cousin of tatty-thatched incumbent London Mayor Boris Johnson and a grand-nephew of pioneer flying ace Amy Johnson. 12 to 1 odds were given on him not being related to Robin Knox-Johnson, the first man to complete a non-stop circumcision of the globe single-handedly with a twenty-five foot cutter.
Other prominent odds-on candidates for the top job are Hopeless Hulk Hogan-Howe, currently Chief Constable of Merseyside’s Scouse-Plods-R-Us Inc. (SA), and Mad Mike N’dinga Fuller, head of Kent’s Bumblebee Bobbies, and England's first chief constable to sport a year-round sun tan.
Monday, 10 November 2008
Taxpayers’ Noses Rubbed in the Brown Smelly Stuff Again
HBOS: A chilling case study of institutional arrogance, misuse of power, flaunted extravagance and avaricious excess.
Less than a month after being given a multi-billion pound survival handout by the taxpayer, the Royal Wank of Scotland has blown £330,000 on a secret champagne junket to celebrate the gross incompetence of its senior executives.
The 370 Halifax / Bank of Scotland mortgage staff and their guests guzzled down Bollinger RD champagne and Snot Island oysters while watching TV comedian Patrick Kielty (who charges £20,000 a show) tell jokes about the credit crunch, whooping with shameless delight as he cracked funnies about homeowners having to 'scrimp and save'.
Ribbing the boozy bankers concerning their excesses following the recent bail-out and while Britain suffers a financial crisis, Kielty apparently told them: 'Your secret is safe with me!' before calling a national tabloid and grassing the whole gang up as a bunch of brazen, dogwanking wastrels.
A shit-faced HBOS whistleblower, in an inebriated attack of conscience, told the Daily Crapraker “There was absolutely no expense spared. We had the best of everything - great food, expensive wine, glam’ strippers with shaved gashes, you name it. The public punters are all in the wrong jobs, poor cunts.”
Speaking on conditions of anonymity, the supergrass (Arthur Skrunk of HBOS’ Old Rope Investments division) rounded off his eruption of verbal diarrhoea.
“It’s fucking outrageous really, considering all the recent troubles at HBOS. We all had a good time though, took a day off work and got paid for it too.”
The bankers and their partners threw the lavish party to mark their 'success' after a year in which the collapse of the banking industry has led to a global financial meltdown.
The supposedly stricken bank laid on the celebration amid extraordinary secrecy to try to prevent details reaching the public, even cancelling the original planned venue of hiring Buckingham Palace from Prince Phillip for their bash. However, the booking was shit-canned just days ago amid growing public anger at greedy banks.
A cloak-and-dagger operation was then devised by the HBOS’ mercenary ‘Hit and Run’ division to shift the party 350 miles north to bonny Scotland and hire Edinburgh Castle as a base for the weekend’s pigswilling debauchery session.
Only a month ago both HBOS and RBS, which owns RatWest, crawled cap-in-hand to the Government, whingeing and bawling for help from public coffers.
But this did not appear to weigh heavily on the minds of the memory-deficient forty Masonic executives from the Wankassurance department of RBS and thirty of their smarmy lard-arsed partners.
As they arrived in Edinburgh on Saturday night, they were handed crystal flutes of champagne and seated for a six-course banquet of Highland stag, wild boar, peacock, black swan and Tasmanian gerbil, accompanied by fine wines, port and brandy.
According to loose-lipped insiders, the evening included a theatre performance of the touring ‘Madonna gives Guy the Finger’ musical extravaganza, followed by dancing to the Joe Loss Paraplegic Orchestra and the Massed Pipe Bands of the Gordon Highlanders.
But despite holding the black-tie ball in private, executives gave the game away as they crawled drunkenly along the gutters outside the castle in the wee hours of Sunday morning, covered in spew, pathetically trying to proposition men in tartan skirts for blow jobs or reciprocal anal sex.
The scheduled guest speaker, the stoat-faced Baron Mandelson of Foy, freshly-christened with the House of Lords soubriquet ‘Vermin in Ermine’, cancelled his appointment due receiving treatment for cancer of the personality.
However, in direct contrast to the media’s criticism of the banquet, Candida Muffitch, spokeslag for HBOS, insisted: “I don’t know what all this brouhaha is about. It was a modest affair, an event we hold every year to reward our star performers, even if they have managed to create a major financial clusterfuck.”
Less than a month after being given a multi-billion pound survival handout by the taxpayer, the Royal Wank of Scotland has blown £330,000 on a secret champagne junket to celebrate the gross incompetence of its senior executives.
The 370 Halifax / Bank of Scotland mortgage staff and their guests guzzled down Bollinger RD champagne and Snot Island oysters while watching TV comedian Patrick Kielty (who charges £20,000 a show) tell jokes about the credit crunch, whooping with shameless delight as he cracked funnies about homeowners having to 'scrimp and save'.
Ribbing the boozy bankers concerning their excesses following the recent bail-out and while Britain suffers a financial crisis, Kielty apparently told them: 'Your secret is safe with me!' before calling a national tabloid and grassing the whole gang up as a bunch of brazen, dogwanking wastrels.
A shit-faced HBOS whistleblower, in an inebriated attack of conscience, told the Daily Crapraker “There was absolutely no expense spared. We had the best of everything - great food, expensive wine, glam’ strippers with shaved gashes, you name it. The public punters are all in the wrong jobs, poor cunts.”
Speaking on conditions of anonymity, the supergrass (Arthur Skrunk of HBOS’ Old Rope Investments division) rounded off his eruption of verbal diarrhoea.
“It’s fucking outrageous really, considering all the recent troubles at HBOS. We all had a good time though, took a day off work and got paid for it too.”
The bankers and their partners threw the lavish party to mark their 'success' after a year in which the collapse of the banking industry has led to a global financial meltdown.
The supposedly stricken bank laid on the celebration amid extraordinary secrecy to try to prevent details reaching the public, even cancelling the original planned venue of hiring Buckingham Palace from Prince Phillip for their bash. However, the booking was shit-canned just days ago amid growing public anger at greedy banks.
A cloak-and-dagger operation was then devised by the HBOS’ mercenary ‘Hit and Run’ division to shift the party 350 miles north to bonny Scotland and hire Edinburgh Castle as a base for the weekend’s pigswilling debauchery session.
Only a month ago both HBOS and RBS, which owns RatWest, crawled cap-in-hand to the Government, whingeing and bawling for help from public coffers.
But this did not appear to weigh heavily on the minds of the memory-deficient forty Masonic executives from the Wankassurance department of RBS and thirty of their smarmy lard-arsed partners.
As they arrived in Edinburgh on Saturday night, they were handed crystal flutes of champagne and seated for a six-course banquet of Highland stag, wild boar, peacock, black swan and Tasmanian gerbil, accompanied by fine wines, port and brandy.
According to loose-lipped insiders, the evening included a theatre performance of the touring ‘Madonna gives Guy the Finger’ musical extravaganza, followed by dancing to the Joe Loss Paraplegic Orchestra and the Massed Pipe Bands of the Gordon Highlanders.
But despite holding the black-tie ball in private, executives gave the game away as they crawled drunkenly along the gutters outside the castle in the wee hours of Sunday morning, covered in spew, pathetically trying to proposition men in tartan skirts for blow jobs or reciprocal anal sex.
The scheduled guest speaker, the stoat-faced Baron Mandelson of Foy, freshly-christened with the House of Lords soubriquet ‘Vermin in Ermine’, cancelled his appointment due receiving treatment for cancer of the personality.
However, in direct contrast to the media’s criticism of the banquet, Candida Muffitch, spokeslag for HBOS, insisted: “I don’t know what all this brouhaha is about. It was a modest affair, an event we hold every year to reward our star performers, even if they have managed to create a major financial clusterfuck.”
Sunday, 9 November 2008
Indian Satellite Orbiting Moon
India is currently jubilant and celebrating the arrival of its Vindaloo 1 spacecraft at the Moon.
A reverse thrusters blast from its fiery garam masala hot fusion nuclear drive unit on Saturday evening (local time) slowed the Vindaloo 1 sufficiently for it to be captured by the lunar body's gravity.
Further braking by the craft’s two on-board Currynauts with a golf umbrella will bring the Indian satellite down to a near-circular, 100 km orbit from where it can begin its mapping mission.
Launched on 22 October from Cape Chapatti, the Vindaloo 1 is the first of India’s space probes to get higher than the roof without going into self-destruct mode and not so much flying as plummeting back to the ground.
Earlier craft, built from the ancient designs for ‘vimanas’ found in Vedic literature and specifically The Mahabharata, were all powered by firewood and never seemed to achieve the necessary head of steam to reach orbital status.
However, the Vindaloo 1, fuelled by an exotic sub-atomic blend of Kashmiri snake oil, garam masala paste and the rare earth element Poppadomite (which reportedly has the radioactive half life of three weeks) will hopefully have enough chug left to return to Earth on completion of its mission.
The mission’s purpose, besides giving India a boost from its customary ‘hopeless case’ Third World status, is to compile a 3D atlas of the lunar surface, mapping prime real estate sites for the strategic positioning of future Poundland outlets and chains of the Subcontinent’s spicy take-aways.
The Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO) spacecraft was reportedly constructed by the consolation prize team of last year’s Smegmadale Scrapheap Challenge final, who were classified by the programme’s judges as the only team of blokes who could fuck up a perfectly good anvil.
However since that time the team have gone from strength to strength, with all of them graduating with NVQ 2 diplomas from the prestigious Calcutta Institute for Advanced Cosmology and Aerospace Research.
The Indian mission’s scheduled off-world experiments include launching a 10 kilo probe that will be released from the mothership to slam into the lunar surface. Given the scientific title of a Moon Impact Probe (MIP), the thing basically consists of two house bricks tied together with a camera taped to them and an Indian flag trailing out behind, and will record video footage on the way down until it smashes pointlessly into the lunar surface with a silent dust-raising ‘whack’.
Communicating with the Vindaloo 1 from the ISRO’s Delhi-based call centre headquarters, mission control chief Mahat Macoat exhibited his customary annoying display of neck-gyrating while multi-tasking commands to the spacecraft and answering reporters’ questions on the peculiar naming of the mission’s crew.
“The Americans have their ‘Astronauts’, the Russians have their ‘Cosmonauts’, the French have their ‘Frogonauts’, so we decided to have our own speciality ‘Currynauts’ for the space exploration project.”
A reverse thrusters blast from its fiery garam masala hot fusion nuclear drive unit on Saturday evening (local time) slowed the Vindaloo 1 sufficiently for it to be captured by the lunar body's gravity.
Further braking by the craft’s two on-board Currynauts with a golf umbrella will bring the Indian satellite down to a near-circular, 100 km orbit from where it can begin its mapping mission.
Launched on 22 October from Cape Chapatti, the Vindaloo 1 is the first of India’s space probes to get higher than the roof without going into self-destruct mode and not so much flying as plummeting back to the ground.
Earlier craft, built from the ancient designs for ‘vimanas’ found in Vedic literature and specifically The Mahabharata, were all powered by firewood and never seemed to achieve the necessary head of steam to reach orbital status.
However, the Vindaloo 1, fuelled by an exotic sub-atomic blend of Kashmiri snake oil, garam masala paste and the rare earth element Poppadomite (which reportedly has the radioactive half life of three weeks) will hopefully have enough chug left to return to Earth on completion of its mission.
The mission’s purpose, besides giving India a boost from its customary ‘hopeless case’ Third World status, is to compile a 3D atlas of the lunar surface, mapping prime real estate sites for the strategic positioning of future Poundland outlets and chains of the Subcontinent’s spicy take-aways.
The Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO) spacecraft was reportedly constructed by the consolation prize team of last year’s Smegmadale Scrapheap Challenge final, who were classified by the programme’s judges as the only team of blokes who could fuck up a perfectly good anvil.
However since that time the team have gone from strength to strength, with all of them graduating with NVQ 2 diplomas from the prestigious Calcutta Institute for Advanced Cosmology and Aerospace Research.
The Indian mission’s scheduled off-world experiments include launching a 10 kilo probe that will be released from the mothership to slam into the lunar surface. Given the scientific title of a Moon Impact Probe (MIP), the thing basically consists of two house bricks tied together with a camera taped to them and an Indian flag trailing out behind, and will record video footage on the way down until it smashes pointlessly into the lunar surface with a silent dust-raising ‘whack’.
Communicating with the Vindaloo 1 from the ISRO’s Delhi-based call centre headquarters, mission control chief Mahat Macoat exhibited his customary annoying display of neck-gyrating while multi-tasking commands to the spacecraft and answering reporters’ questions on the peculiar naming of the mission’s crew.
“The Americans have their ‘Astronauts’, the Russians have their ‘Cosmonauts’, the French have their ‘Frogonauts’, so we decided to have our own speciality ‘Currynauts’ for the space exploration project.”
A Coronation in the Dragon Kingdom
A process of modernisation is underway in the Himalayan kingdom of Shittan and a young, new king has just ascended the throne in a ceremony steeped in pagan smoke and mirrors ritual.
The royal palace, designed by Disney Corporation architects and recently constructed by Bechtel’s Confectionary Division, was bedecked with tinsel and milk bottle tops, twinkling brightly in the afternoon sunshine.
In Crapoore, the capital of Shittan, huge crowds consisting of several people became immersed in coronation fever as the newly-invested king, Tenzing Pungrat the Second, was presented with a donkey and an Apple I-phone as emblems of his divine right to rule.
King Pungrat had the royal crown, mounted with a shitehawk and adorned with ferret skulls, placed on his head by his retiring father, Pungrat the First, whose royal line can be traced back to Ghengis Mung, the Shittanese discoverer of fire, inventor of the wheel, and the first man to employ rudimentary cave drainage techniques.
Despite questions being raised in the international press by exiled Shittan anti-monarchists concerning the new king’s ability to rule, Pungrat the Second was educated in the UK at Oxford’s prestigious Smegmadale College, where he shared a kennel with current British Foreign Secretary David Millipede, gained an honours degree in Political Scheming, and a NVQ 2 in Basic Plumbing Technology.
Crapoore, the only world capital without traffic lights, due having no cars or roads, was awoken to coronation day by a troupe of ganja-smoking monks, bollocks-naked apart from their scarlet head-dresses, greeting the wintry dawn from the rooftop of their Hovel Hill monastery, with clanging cymbals and long, droning horns.
Folk dancers from all over the country whirled, young ladyboys dressed as skanks performed erotic dances, and VIPs, both local and foreign, paid homage by presenting the new king with such prestigious gifts as mountain bikes, roller blades, Pringles crisps, thermal underwear and Gore-tex hiking jackets.
Underneath all this technicolour bullshit and palaver is a country taking deliberate but slow-paced calculated steps towards democracy.
When voters in neighbouring Nepal recently sacked their king for being an utter arsehole and useless twat, and sent him packing to the job centre, the Shittan monarchy caught a scent of change on the wind and decided they might be next for the chop if reforms weren’t implemented to their centuries-old feudal system of government.
Thus in an act of pre-emptive self-preservation King Pungrat Senior insisted they needed some democratic medicine, and elections were held in March, with anyone who owned a donkey or could count to ten being eligible to vote for the one-party monarchist candidate.
Wedding bells are due to chime in the mountain kingdom next month too, when newly-invested King Pungrat 2 will marry his third cousin, twenty-eight times removed, Princess Soo Doku, best known to the Western media for taking the bronze medal for the Crossword Puzzle event in the 2008 Beijing Olympics.
Reservations regarding the marriage between blood relatives were voiced in the Shittan Daily Croaker as “swimming at the shallow end of the gene pool” with a royal family whose entire genetic history is one of inbreeding and in the past has produced both male and female offspring with more than the normal human allotments of fingers, toes and ears etc.
With the mountain kingdom being a former British protectorate, the coronation was attended by Prince Charles and the Royal Slug, Camilla.
As Remembrance Sunday coincided with the coronation, the Prince placed a wreath on the Crapoore War Memorial, dedicated to all those who gave their lives trying to keep Shittan British.
The royal palace, designed by Disney Corporation architects and recently constructed by Bechtel’s Confectionary Division, was bedecked with tinsel and milk bottle tops, twinkling brightly in the afternoon sunshine.
In Crapoore, the capital of Shittan, huge crowds consisting of several people became immersed in coronation fever as the newly-invested king, Tenzing Pungrat the Second, was presented with a donkey and an Apple I-phone as emblems of his divine right to rule.
King Pungrat had the royal crown, mounted with a shitehawk and adorned with ferret skulls, placed on his head by his retiring father, Pungrat the First, whose royal line can be traced back to Ghengis Mung, the Shittanese discoverer of fire, inventor of the wheel, and the first man to employ rudimentary cave drainage techniques.
Despite questions being raised in the international press by exiled Shittan anti-monarchists concerning the new king’s ability to rule, Pungrat the Second was educated in the UK at Oxford’s prestigious Smegmadale College, where he shared a kennel with current British Foreign Secretary David Millipede, gained an honours degree in Political Scheming, and a NVQ 2 in Basic Plumbing Technology.
Crapoore, the only world capital without traffic lights, due having no cars or roads, was awoken to coronation day by a troupe of ganja-smoking monks, bollocks-naked apart from their scarlet head-dresses, greeting the wintry dawn from the rooftop of their Hovel Hill monastery, with clanging cymbals and long, droning horns.
Folk dancers from all over the country whirled, young ladyboys dressed as skanks performed erotic dances, and VIPs, both local and foreign, paid homage by presenting the new king with such prestigious gifts as mountain bikes, roller blades, Pringles crisps, thermal underwear and Gore-tex hiking jackets.
Underneath all this technicolour bullshit and palaver is a country taking deliberate but slow-paced calculated steps towards democracy.
When voters in neighbouring Nepal recently sacked their king for being an utter arsehole and useless twat, and sent him packing to the job centre, the Shittan monarchy caught a scent of change on the wind and decided they might be next for the chop if reforms weren’t implemented to their centuries-old feudal system of government.
Thus in an act of pre-emptive self-preservation King Pungrat Senior insisted they needed some democratic medicine, and elections were held in March, with anyone who owned a donkey or could count to ten being eligible to vote for the one-party monarchist candidate.
Wedding bells are due to chime in the mountain kingdom next month too, when newly-invested King Pungrat 2 will marry his third cousin, twenty-eight times removed, Princess Soo Doku, best known to the Western media for taking the bronze medal for the Crossword Puzzle event in the 2008 Beijing Olympics.
Reservations regarding the marriage between blood relatives were voiced in the Shittan Daily Croaker as “swimming at the shallow end of the gene pool” with a royal family whose entire genetic history is one of inbreeding and in the past has produced both male and female offspring with more than the normal human allotments of fingers, toes and ears etc.
With the mountain kingdom being a former British protectorate, the coronation was attended by Prince Charles and the Royal Slug, Camilla.
As Remembrance Sunday coincided with the coronation, the Prince placed a wreath on the Crapoore War Memorial, dedicated to all those who gave their lives trying to keep Shittan British.
Tuesday, 4 November 2008
Food Poisoning Outbreak Downs School Staff and Students
Smegmadale Asbo Central College for the Intellectually-Challenged was tonight placed under a quarantine order as Department of Health inspectors, garbed in bio-hazard suits, took samples from the school’s kitchen and canteen to determine the cause of this afternoon’s outbreak of virulent food poisoning, which resulted in the deaths of a number of staff and pupils, with the remainder of diners being hospitalised.
After testing several samples from the kitchen and food storage areas, hygiene officials summoned a team of scientists from the government’s Porton Down Biological Warfare facility to assist with their investigation.
Prof. Digby Ratstamper, senior microbiologist from Porton Down, informed media reporters “I’ve never seen a kitchen so filthy that even the cockroaches came out spewing.”
He added that his team harboured serious reservations concerning hygiene and sanitation issues, not only with the quality and storage of the food stocks, but also with the reported lax cleanliness practices of the kitchen staff.
“I spoke to the deputy cook, a Ms. E. Coli, who told me she washes her hands religiously, once a week, whether they need it or not.”
The college’s chief cook, Ms. Sally Monella, told reporters jokingly “I ‘ope it weren’t me special recipe Turkish Delight Pasties, wot’s really last week’s left-over turkey twizzlers minced up an’ chillied then rolled in pastry. As me Mum used ter say ‘Waste not – want not.’ They’re a wee bit fiery an’ can give yer a spot of a tummy upset if yer not used ter spicy food, yer know.”
“I decided ter cook th’ Turkish Delights as I were a bit late gettin’ to th’ college after me night shift at th’ sewerage works an’ ‘ad ter do a runner ter get ‘ere in time ter cook the kids’ dinners.”
“Anyway, I ’ad called me second cook, Ethel Coli, on me cell phone an’ she’d got th’ chillied twizzler mix well on th’ way by th’ time I got there.”
When questioned by astounded reporters about her night job at the sewerage works, Ms. Monella replied she was the senior turd sorter, NVQ level 4.
Department of Health spokesquack, Dr. Hector McCrud told the media “I believe things are a lot more serious than what Ms. Monella terms ‘a spot of a tummy upset.’
With teaching staff and students vomiting blood and crapping out several yards of lower intestine, plus twenty-three now chilling in the hospital mortuary so far, then I personally would classify the incident as a major disaster.”
“After my initial walk-through inspection, with the sound of deceased vermin crunching under my boots, I judged the kitchen to be as hygienic as a Punjabi public lavatory.
I mean, I’m all for equal employment opportunities, but there’s a few far-reaching implications in the college hiring a leper as the kitchen’s commi chef and dishwasher, even if he is the Headmistress’ brother-in-law.”
However, Headmistress Mildred Mingerot took umbrage at Dr. McCrud’s insinuations concerning her relative’s employment.
“Our William’s just fine, it’s not as though he has bits of rotting flesh falling off into the meals, is it. Dr. McCrud ought to display a mite more Christian charity to those so afflicted. How would he like to attend a job centre every other week with a cow bell round his neck, clanging away, and having to shout Unclean!”
Lindsey Chavette, currently studying for an A-level GCSE in Slapperology, spoke to the Undertakers’ Review on her cellphone from the hospital toilets.
“Yeah, I’m sat ‘ere on the crapper like, spewin’ me fuckin’ ring up into a bucket and pebble-dashin’ the porcelain with me arse. Yer want me to take a piccie of me rosebud for yer with me cell-cam?”
Chirpy third year students Campy Lobacter and Georgina Grunge, hanging around the campus gates smoking a bifta, told reporters “We’re all right cos we never eat the shit old Pigswill Sally an’ the other tosspots cooks up in the college canteen, an’ definitely not when yer got old Botulism Billy ringin’ ‘is bell an’ festerin’ all over the effin’ place.
We goes down the local fast food joint fer cow ‘eel pie an’ chips. Yer never gets sick there.”
After testing several samples from the kitchen and food storage areas, hygiene officials summoned a team of scientists from the government’s Porton Down Biological Warfare facility to assist with their investigation.
Prof. Digby Ratstamper, senior microbiologist from Porton Down, informed media reporters “I’ve never seen a kitchen so filthy that even the cockroaches came out spewing.”
He added that his team harboured serious reservations concerning hygiene and sanitation issues, not only with the quality and storage of the food stocks, but also with the reported lax cleanliness practices of the kitchen staff.
“I spoke to the deputy cook, a Ms. E. Coli, who told me she washes her hands religiously, once a week, whether they need it or not.”
The college’s chief cook, Ms. Sally Monella, told reporters jokingly “I ‘ope it weren’t me special recipe Turkish Delight Pasties, wot’s really last week’s left-over turkey twizzlers minced up an’ chillied then rolled in pastry. As me Mum used ter say ‘Waste not – want not.’ They’re a wee bit fiery an’ can give yer a spot of a tummy upset if yer not used ter spicy food, yer know.”
“I decided ter cook th’ Turkish Delights as I were a bit late gettin’ to th’ college after me night shift at th’ sewerage works an’ ‘ad ter do a runner ter get ‘ere in time ter cook the kids’ dinners.”
“Anyway, I ’ad called me second cook, Ethel Coli, on me cell phone an’ she’d got th’ chillied twizzler mix well on th’ way by th’ time I got there.”
When questioned by astounded reporters about her night job at the sewerage works, Ms. Monella replied she was the senior turd sorter, NVQ level 4.
Department of Health spokesquack, Dr. Hector McCrud told the media “I believe things are a lot more serious than what Ms. Monella terms ‘a spot of a tummy upset.’
With teaching staff and students vomiting blood and crapping out several yards of lower intestine, plus twenty-three now chilling in the hospital mortuary so far, then I personally would classify the incident as a major disaster.”
“After my initial walk-through inspection, with the sound of deceased vermin crunching under my boots, I judged the kitchen to be as hygienic as a Punjabi public lavatory.
I mean, I’m all for equal employment opportunities, but there’s a few far-reaching implications in the college hiring a leper as the kitchen’s commi chef and dishwasher, even if he is the Headmistress’ brother-in-law.”
However, Headmistress Mildred Mingerot took umbrage at Dr. McCrud’s insinuations concerning her relative’s employment.
“Our William’s just fine, it’s not as though he has bits of rotting flesh falling off into the meals, is it. Dr. McCrud ought to display a mite more Christian charity to those so afflicted. How would he like to attend a job centre every other week with a cow bell round his neck, clanging away, and having to shout Unclean!”
Lindsey Chavette, currently studying for an A-level GCSE in Slapperology, spoke to the Undertakers’ Review on her cellphone from the hospital toilets.
“Yeah, I’m sat ‘ere on the crapper like, spewin’ me fuckin’ ring up into a bucket and pebble-dashin’ the porcelain with me arse. Yer want me to take a piccie of me rosebud for yer with me cell-cam?”
Chirpy third year students Campy Lobacter and Georgina Grunge, hanging around the campus gates smoking a bifta, told reporters “We’re all right cos we never eat the shit old Pigswill Sally an’ the other tosspots cooks up in the college canteen, an’ definitely not when yer got old Botulism Billy ringin’ ‘is bell an’ festerin’ all over the effin’ place.
We goes down the local fast food joint fer cow ‘eel pie an’ chips. Yer never gets sick there.”
Monday, 3 November 2008
UN Convoy Delivers Aid to DR Congo
A UN convoy has finally arrived in rebel-held territory in the Devastated Republic of Congo, bringing supplies to some of the 250,000 refugees displaced by the civil war.
It is the first aid in weeks for those stranded in areas controlled by the simian forces of megalomaniac rebel commander Field Marshall Bonkers N’kunta.
War correspondent Wilbert Snitch, chief grasser for the BBC, reporting from a fortified Pizza Hut outlet in the war-torn North Kiyu province’s capital of Gonads, said the convoy had managed to get through with several cartons of Cheese and Onion crisps, a gross of Pol Pot insta-noodles, nine bales of Andrex extra-soft bog rolls (with aloe), two hundred shower curtains (paisley), several boxes of donated Nintendo Wii games and sixty-two cases of Foster’s lager (warm).
However, the long-awaited shipment of new DVD releases from Blockbuster and the latest copies of the Daily Sport was lost when the truck carrying it hit a land mine.
A fragile ceasefire is currently in place, and Field Marshall N’kunta has said he might guarantee ‘humanitarian corridors’ for the convoys through rebel lines as long as he receives his usual commission in conflict diamonds and Tesco discount vouchers.
One news correspondent speculates the UN will try to find out who ate the tens of thousands of people housed in refugee camps. On its journey, the convoy passed the large Ratshitdump camp, just north of Gonads, where all the houses had been repossessed by the ailing ‘Smegmadale No-Chance Savings and Loans Bank’, and the inhabitants’ gnawed bare bones left strewn around the streets.
UN doctors travelling with the convoy expressed doubt that this was the work of starving hyena packs and blamed the cannibal banquet on the Congolese Army.
The recent rebel offensive, exacerbated by a spate of killing, looting and raping by the retreating Congolese Army’s Baboon Regiment, has created what aid agencies have termed an ‘absolute clusterfuck’.
Hopefully many of the displaced Congolese refugees who have been reduced to foraging for food in the outlying bush, existing on subsistence diets of damp cardboard, barbed wire and broken glass, will tonight be able enjoy a couple of Fosters and a shower curtain sandwich, courtesy of the UN.
In a weekend of shuttle diplomacy, several bungling European foreign ministers met both Rwandan President Ng’dinga Koconut in Kigali and Congolese President De’ Rippa Krocodile in Kinshasa to discuss matters of mutual self-interest involving Swiss bank accounts, natural resource concessions, diamonds and armament sales.
However, Gladys Twatscratcher, spokeslapper for the international aid charity ‘Hopeless Cases’, told the media “The first thing these interfering foreign ministry cunts from Europe can do to help is to stop supplying both sides of this conflict with the same weapons, then they might be tempted to sit down and leave the country in peace, and not in pieces”.
After visiting camps for displaced persons around Gonads, UK and French foreign ministers David Wristband and Bernard Kouchspud told the BBC that establishing and maintaining an AIDS (?) corridor to the area was a top priority.
Before departing for their scheduled champagne and lobster lunch in Kinshasa they also called for the strengthening of the twenty man UN force in DR Congo, but ruled out assigning EU troops as someone might get shot, or worse.
In 1994, 800,000 people died in Rwanda's genocide, which kicked off as a bit of a panga-waving spat between Hutu and Tootsie tribesmen, and is now regarded as the origin of the current conflict across the border.
UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown told the media the international community must "Not allow Congo to become another Rwanda", and if necessary he himself would lead a troop of Highland forces to ”Sort these sad scally bastards out once n fer all”.
International reporters were at a loss for words but declined from informing the government’s Chief Clot that the civil war situation was already “another Rwanda”.
Field Marshall N’kunta says he is fighting to protect his Tootsie’s from being trodden on by Rwandan General Jabba the Hutu and his rebels, some of whom are accused of taking part in the genocide, with suspicions of collusion between the DR Congolese army, the Hutu guerrillas and the Bradford and Bingley Limited Conflicts Loans division.
The Congolese government, for its part, has accused Rwanda of backing Field Marshall N’kunta. The Rwanda government denies this, but has twice invaded its much larger neighbour in recent years and established itself as being run by pathological liars who wouldn’t recognised the Truth if it jumped up and bit them on the arse.
So all in all, the whole pack are lying through their mendacious teeth and the conflict will continue unabated so long as the West keeps supplying the ammo, until it’s last man standing. Business as usual, amen.
It is the first aid in weeks for those stranded in areas controlled by the simian forces of megalomaniac rebel commander Field Marshall Bonkers N’kunta.
War correspondent Wilbert Snitch, chief grasser for the BBC, reporting from a fortified Pizza Hut outlet in the war-torn North Kiyu province’s capital of Gonads, said the convoy had managed to get through with several cartons of Cheese and Onion crisps, a gross of Pol Pot insta-noodles, nine bales of Andrex extra-soft bog rolls (with aloe), two hundred shower curtains (paisley), several boxes of donated Nintendo Wii games and sixty-two cases of Foster’s lager (warm).
However, the long-awaited shipment of new DVD releases from Blockbuster and the latest copies of the Daily Sport was lost when the truck carrying it hit a land mine.
A fragile ceasefire is currently in place, and Field Marshall N’kunta has said he might guarantee ‘humanitarian corridors’ for the convoys through rebel lines as long as he receives his usual commission in conflict diamonds and Tesco discount vouchers.
One news correspondent speculates the UN will try to find out who ate the tens of thousands of people housed in refugee camps. On its journey, the convoy passed the large Ratshitdump camp, just north of Gonads, where all the houses had been repossessed by the ailing ‘Smegmadale No-Chance Savings and Loans Bank’, and the inhabitants’ gnawed bare bones left strewn around the streets.
UN doctors travelling with the convoy expressed doubt that this was the work of starving hyena packs and blamed the cannibal banquet on the Congolese Army.
The recent rebel offensive, exacerbated by a spate of killing, looting and raping by the retreating Congolese Army’s Baboon Regiment, has created what aid agencies have termed an ‘absolute clusterfuck’.
Hopefully many of the displaced Congolese refugees who have been reduced to foraging for food in the outlying bush, existing on subsistence diets of damp cardboard, barbed wire and broken glass, will tonight be able enjoy a couple of Fosters and a shower curtain sandwich, courtesy of the UN.
In a weekend of shuttle diplomacy, several bungling European foreign ministers met both Rwandan President Ng’dinga Koconut in Kigali and Congolese President De’ Rippa Krocodile in Kinshasa to discuss matters of mutual self-interest involving Swiss bank accounts, natural resource concessions, diamonds and armament sales.
However, Gladys Twatscratcher, spokeslapper for the international aid charity ‘Hopeless Cases’, told the media “The first thing these interfering foreign ministry cunts from Europe can do to help is to stop supplying both sides of this conflict with the same weapons, then they might be tempted to sit down and leave the country in peace, and not in pieces”.
After visiting camps for displaced persons around Gonads, UK and French foreign ministers David Wristband and Bernard Kouchspud told the BBC that establishing and maintaining an AIDS (?) corridor to the area was a top priority.
Before departing for their scheduled champagne and lobster lunch in Kinshasa they also called for the strengthening of the twenty man UN force in DR Congo, but ruled out assigning EU troops as someone might get shot, or worse.
In 1994, 800,000 people died in Rwanda's genocide, which kicked off as a bit of a panga-waving spat between Hutu and Tootsie tribesmen, and is now regarded as the origin of the current conflict across the border.
UK Prime Minister Gordon Brown told the media the international community must "Not allow Congo to become another Rwanda", and if necessary he himself would lead a troop of Highland forces to ”Sort these sad scally bastards out once n fer all”.
International reporters were at a loss for words but declined from informing the government’s Chief Clot that the civil war situation was already “another Rwanda”.
Field Marshall N’kunta says he is fighting to protect his Tootsie’s from being trodden on by Rwandan General Jabba the Hutu and his rebels, some of whom are accused of taking part in the genocide, with suspicions of collusion between the DR Congolese army, the Hutu guerrillas and the Bradford and Bingley Limited Conflicts Loans division.
The Congolese government, for its part, has accused Rwanda of backing Field Marshall N’kunta. The Rwanda government denies this, but has twice invaded its much larger neighbour in recent years and established itself as being run by pathological liars who wouldn’t recognised the Truth if it jumped up and bit them on the arse.
So all in all, the whole pack are lying through their mendacious teeth and the conflict will continue unabated so long as the West keeps supplying the ammo, until it’s last man standing. Business as usual, amen.
Sunday, 2 November 2008
Global Oligarchs and Ruling Elite Flit to Utopia
Breach in Time/Space Continuum Opens Dimensional Portal to Hell.
Man recently donned the cloak of Creator and assumed the role of God. His manipulation of ORMEs, the esoteric sciences and applied quantum technologies saw Thomas Moore’s dream bastion of perfection a reality manifested.
Utopia Inc., the next best thing to Heaven on Earth, opened its Pearly Gates to those who could afford the luxurious environment and opulent lifestyles it offered.
Situated high in the Himalayas it was Shangri La revealed, the Shamballah of legends materialised, with its Yin and Yang held in harmonious accord by a pioneering computerised Feng Shui system, enabling cosseted residents to tune into a perpetual state of Nirvana.
Utilizing HAARP climate engineering technology to produce and maintain a Garden of Eden environment and sub-tropical weather system was the brainchild of psycho-physicist Arturo von Scrunk.
Although winner of the 2005 Nobel Prize for Indoor Decorating, Skrunk is perhaps best known to the public for his innovative children’s self-destruct build kit : Chernobyl Nuclear Lego; and last Xmas’ best-selling Nintendo Super-Wii molecular dissociation / directed energy beam game ‘Guess Where Granny’s Gone?’
Ninety-nine per cent of the world’s population of useless eaters faced a galloping global recession with mouths agape. Mass credit cancellations and rejections, banking collapses, personal pension fund evaporations, rampant unemployment, defenestrating housing prices and property repossessions had hit the human herd with the devastating intensity of a four-year old child being told, on Christmas Eve, that Santa Claus doesn’t exist.
As that 99:9% of ‘sheeple’ struggled to come to terms with the fact they were facing a massive extinction level clusterfuck of Biblical proportions, the remaining privileged 0:1%, consisting of the world’s oligarchs and ruling elites who had caused the chaos, slithered tactically off to pastures new, courtesy of Utopia Inc. (SA).
The project was originally bankrolled by the ultra-secretive Geneva-based Zionist NWO think tank Cuckoos, and boosted by further mega-billion Euro investments from Opus Dei and the Vatican, the Russian Wankos Oil and Gas conglomerate Chairman, Igor Mobzaroubles, and International Illuminati banker Sir Dinsdale de Rothshite, owner of the City of London and Keeper of the Royal Tesco Card.
Marketed exclusively to the Rich and Shameless as the ‘Elite Retreat’, every man and his dog who ever kissed the Pope’s ring, gave their favourite patron Cardinal a rim job or shook paws with a national leader had their name on the property list, so long they could put their hands on a spare thousand ounces of gold bullion or a few hundred carats of uncut conflict diamonds.
News reports of the recent opening of Utopia published various accounts of the world’s celebrity financial elite’s initial opinions and reactions to living in Paradise before it all went tits up in a spectacular Busby-Berkeley style Apocalyptic somersault.
Only last week Sir Wilf Pustule, the one-eyed expatriate British rags to riches entrepreneur who laid the foundation stone to his fortune with the invention of the left-handed corkscrew, gave the media his monocular view of the burgeoning global political crises and his family’s move to Utopia.
“Th’ world out there, yer know, in th’ UK anyways, it’s all fucked up like a soup sandwich and nowt works since th’ local councils invested all th’ money in those dodgy Icelandic banks and sub-prime mortgage shite. Now th’ mobs are takin’ to th’ streets in revolt an’ snuffin’ th’ lot of ‘em. Council twats, coppers, community sneaks an’ traffic wardens included, so bleedin’ anarchy rules”.
“But don’t say owt, or that I told yer, mind. I opened me big gob about fractional reserve bankin’ bein’ the effin’ cause of it all an’ got me eye poked out fer me trouble like by one of Rockefeller’s heavies at th’ Council of Foreign Relations”.
“Anyway, th’ same’s ‘appenin’ every-bleedin’-where. Africa, Asia, Amarillo, Australia, America, Abergavenny”.
“I knew civilisation ‘ad definitely broken down when I read in th' Daily Dingbat that th’ local tannin’ parlours refused to take DSS coupons any more an’ closed up shop. I reckon that was the kick-off of th’ Liverpool end of th’ global revolution”.
“That’s when we moved ‘ere. Got us a nice little mansion up on th’ hillside, right next door to Kenny Piynan’s stables, in fact”.
“Bit of an ‘orse lover I believe ‘e is, which is right ‘andy as th’ missus loves a spot of gee-gee ridin’ now an’ again, know wot I mean. Not a bad view from up ‘ere either, if yer stand on th’ roof”.
“Buying a villa here costs an arm or a leg, or some other dispensable body part, but it’s well worth it to be away from all those whingeing poor pale-faced proletariat bastards with their shoddy dentistry,” pronounced Lord Ratflinger, the one-legged CEO of Europe’s largest weapons manufacturer, Mutilations-R-Us (SA), and current owner of Smegmadale United FC and Britain’s Labour Party.
Speaking from his wind-powered Maserati wheelchair and accompanied by gay partner, the one-titted Greek-Amazon lesbo property heiress, Sapphica Dildodo, Lord Ratflinger told the press “It’s definitely worth the price, just to be away from that shithole of a world out there”.
“It really is an utter joy living here with our personal computerised Dial-a-Climate system and the pulsa denura security screen guarding the property, fortified with man-eating rotifers, I might add. That was installed to look after my priceless little collection of Wang Dynasty Tuppaware and keep any invading riffraff out”.
Turbo Tatswiller, the tabloids favourite overweight Polynesian Lycra magnate from Luton-on-Sea, gave the Hades Weekly Review his first-hand version of what had gone wrong with the technological Paradise.
“I’m down at Utopia’s Rub and Tug Saloon for a few post-prandial Harvey Headbanger cocktails, getting waited on by all those gorgeous Thai ladyboys and having an oriental tongue massage, when suddenly it’s ‘Boom’! The lights go out, the place turns upside-down and when I come around everywhere stinks of bandicoot shit, I’m trapped in ice up to me bollocks and the ceiling’s on fire. Bye-bye Hedonist Heaven”.
“Anyway, for the first coupla days after it all goes to crap I’ve got some wrinkly old yid twat called Kissinger stuck in the ice next to me and he’s harping on about some gossip that the HAARP weather control array caused a major fuck up with the Earth’s Time-Space-Gravity continuum and opened a portal to the Nth Dimension, whatever the fuck that is. Some know-alling bugger in the next circle reckons it’s what the Catholic tabloids call Hell”.
“Next thing some slitty-eyed grey alien demons yank this Kissinger bloke out and put him through a big bonemeal mincer to shut the whingeing old cunt up. Very nasty way to go, I might tell you. Then they minced up a bunch of screaming Ivy leaguers from Harvard and Yale and made a whopping big lasagne supper out of the mess for the reptiles who run the place. So I’ve not heard any other gossip since, apart from a rumour we’re stuck here for Eternity and no appeals. Until it’s time for another lasagne, anyway”.
Prince Burnedarse of the Neverlands (SS ret. / Iron Cross & bar) and Klaus von Bilderberg (SS ret. / Hot Cross bun), now permanently embedded in the eternal ice of Utopia’s Ninth Circle of Hell, spoke to The Hades Weekly Review’s reporter, freely admitted their involvement in the causes of the World’s crises and opined on the up-ending of their elitist private Paradise.
“The world would have been okay and probably sorted itself out, as financial panics and political shit fights eventually have a habit of doing, if the Zionist loonies hadn’t pulled another of their barmy pre-emptive stunts and got Mossad to blow up Jerusalem so they could waste the Moslems and rebuild Solomon’s temple”.
“Some premier intelligence agency eh, couldn’t tell the difference between a twenty kiloton and a twenty megaton bomb. What a bloody mess. It’s still snowing soot and charred body parts across the Middle East. The Iranians didn’t take too kindly to being blamed for doing it either”.
“Mossad’s false flag mole flu attack across Europe went totally tits up in the same week as well. It only snuffed seven people, all pensioners, but left the entire populations of Germany and Poland with tunnel vision and the autobahns covered in snot. They should have stuck to spreading the Fort Detrick strain bird flu and any left-over anthrax spores. That could have been a real killer”.
“Utopia, our little clandestine Paradise, had been on the cards for years, since the Tavistock Institute gave the Round Table the whisper and a thumbs-down that there was no chance of ever dominating the global population on a permanent basis through their vaunted New World Order and MK-Ultra mind control television programmes. Spiking the drinking water with fluoride only made the populations dumber donkeys than they already were”.
“This was our bolt-hole for when fractional reserve banking loans reached a critical mass and caused the recent chain reaction”.
“We knew everything would eventually go to shit and the masses get really stroppy and opt out for a world-wide revolution with a spot of quid pro quo against their social betters. Us, the historic nobility. Just a matter of postponing the inevitable”.
“Seems paradoxical none of our research academics had ever read Dante Alighieri’s ‘Inferno’ or recognised the irony of pissing around with HAARP to turn the WTC skyscrapers to dust, and cause earthquakes, hurricanes and tsunamis, then blame it on Nature”.
“Our Utopian project seems to have stirred up a bit of a contretemps with Mother Nature, disturbing the immutable order of things. One moment all is honky-dory, the next thing, Utopia’s gone to shit in a handcart, just like the Federal Reserve and central banking systems did’”.
“Some penitent goyim fink trapped in the Eighth Circle’s had an attack of the hysterics and started speculating that the Hand of God was responsible for up-ending our creationist masterpiece as we’re a menagerie of egocentric self-delusionists, and this is the cost of allowing ego to surpass intellect”.
Prince Burnedarse, locked fast and immobile in the eternal ice of Hell’s Ninth Circle, with the fires burning above him, pauses to snap his teeth and spit at an insomniac pterodactyl pecking dispassionately at his left eye, then painfully waxes on once more as the flying lizard turns to peck at von Bilderberg’s pointy bald head.
"You’ll have to excuse Klaus not saying much. A geezenstack tunnelled up his rear passage last night and chewed his tongue off. He never had much of any consequence to say anyway”.
“However, closer to reality, one of the anoraks lodged in the Sixth Circle thinks we’ve created an inter-dimensional shift from the 3rd to 4th density, and that’s the cause of our predicament”.
“Last week everyone was a money-grabbing greedy atheist, now they’re all wingeing penitents spouting philosophical mantras about our fall from grace. A bit late for reconciliation and saying a dozen ‘Hail Mary’s’ as the panacea for their sins. No priests available to take confession anyway, they’re all trapped in the Fourth Circle. To sum it up concisely, we’re all fucked”.
Frank Shitrag, reporting live from Channel X’s news desk, announced the entire dimensional shift and flash freeze at Utopia was recorded live on the citadel’s CCTV cameras and can now be viewed on YouTube.
Those wishing to watch Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand being pecked to shreds by killiwacky birds can tune into the Fifth Circle, specially reserved for total dickheads.
Classified ad’ / The Hades Weekly Review :
“If you’ve breached both human and divine laws and become steeped in all manner of crimes and disgrace, then apply now for a slot in Utopia-Hades, the place all sado-masochist gluttons vie for and adore. Hear the whispers of pain screamed aloud, breathe deeply on the excreted scent of fear and misery. But don’t forget, what you want is not always what you get. Trick or treat and just deserts for such impiety”.
“So give us a call right now on our unique Fibonacci prime sequence telephone system’s toll-free number : 2-3-5-13-89-233-1597, and commit to donating a tissue-typed organ or limb of our choice as a deposit on your personal Circle of Hell”. (Human souls are no longer a viable commodity for transactions)
(Reuters latest: Meek shall inherit the Earth )
Man recently donned the cloak of Creator and assumed the role of God. His manipulation of ORMEs, the esoteric sciences and applied quantum technologies saw Thomas Moore’s dream bastion of perfection a reality manifested.
Utopia Inc., the next best thing to Heaven on Earth, opened its Pearly Gates to those who could afford the luxurious environment and opulent lifestyles it offered.
Situated high in the Himalayas it was Shangri La revealed, the Shamballah of legends materialised, with its Yin and Yang held in harmonious accord by a pioneering computerised Feng Shui system, enabling cosseted residents to tune into a perpetual state of Nirvana.
Utilizing HAARP climate engineering technology to produce and maintain a Garden of Eden environment and sub-tropical weather system was the brainchild of psycho-physicist Arturo von Scrunk.
Although winner of the 2005 Nobel Prize for Indoor Decorating, Skrunk is perhaps best known to the public for his innovative children’s self-destruct build kit : Chernobyl Nuclear Lego; and last Xmas’ best-selling Nintendo Super-Wii molecular dissociation / directed energy beam game ‘Guess Where Granny’s Gone?’
Ninety-nine per cent of the world’s population of useless eaters faced a galloping global recession with mouths agape. Mass credit cancellations and rejections, banking collapses, personal pension fund evaporations, rampant unemployment, defenestrating housing prices and property repossessions had hit the human herd with the devastating intensity of a four-year old child being told, on Christmas Eve, that Santa Claus doesn’t exist.
As that 99:9% of ‘sheeple’ struggled to come to terms with the fact they were facing a massive extinction level clusterfuck of Biblical proportions, the remaining privileged 0:1%, consisting of the world’s oligarchs and ruling elites who had caused the chaos, slithered tactically off to pastures new, courtesy of Utopia Inc. (SA).
The project was originally bankrolled by the ultra-secretive Geneva-based Zionist NWO think tank Cuckoos, and boosted by further mega-billion Euro investments from Opus Dei and the Vatican, the Russian Wankos Oil and Gas conglomerate Chairman, Igor Mobzaroubles, and International Illuminati banker Sir Dinsdale de Rothshite, owner of the City of London and Keeper of the Royal Tesco Card.
Marketed exclusively to the Rich and Shameless as the ‘Elite Retreat’, every man and his dog who ever kissed the Pope’s ring, gave their favourite patron Cardinal a rim job or shook paws with a national leader had their name on the property list, so long they could put their hands on a spare thousand ounces of gold bullion or a few hundred carats of uncut conflict diamonds.
News reports of the recent opening of Utopia published various accounts of the world’s celebrity financial elite’s initial opinions and reactions to living in Paradise before it all went tits up in a spectacular Busby-Berkeley style Apocalyptic somersault.
Only last week Sir Wilf Pustule, the one-eyed expatriate British rags to riches entrepreneur who laid the foundation stone to his fortune with the invention of the left-handed corkscrew, gave the media his monocular view of the burgeoning global political crises and his family’s move to Utopia.
“Th’ world out there, yer know, in th’ UK anyways, it’s all fucked up like a soup sandwich and nowt works since th’ local councils invested all th’ money in those dodgy Icelandic banks and sub-prime mortgage shite. Now th’ mobs are takin’ to th’ streets in revolt an’ snuffin’ th’ lot of ‘em. Council twats, coppers, community sneaks an’ traffic wardens included, so bleedin’ anarchy rules”.
“But don’t say owt, or that I told yer, mind. I opened me big gob about fractional reserve bankin’ bein’ the effin’ cause of it all an’ got me eye poked out fer me trouble like by one of Rockefeller’s heavies at th’ Council of Foreign Relations”.
“Anyway, th’ same’s ‘appenin’ every-bleedin’-where. Africa, Asia, Amarillo, Australia, America, Abergavenny”.
“I knew civilisation ‘ad definitely broken down when I read in th' Daily Dingbat that th’ local tannin’ parlours refused to take DSS coupons any more an’ closed up shop. I reckon that was the kick-off of th’ Liverpool end of th’ global revolution”.
“That’s when we moved ‘ere. Got us a nice little mansion up on th’ hillside, right next door to Kenny Piynan’s stables, in fact”.
“Bit of an ‘orse lover I believe ‘e is, which is right ‘andy as th’ missus loves a spot of gee-gee ridin’ now an’ again, know wot I mean. Not a bad view from up ‘ere either, if yer stand on th’ roof”.
“Buying a villa here costs an arm or a leg, or some other dispensable body part, but it’s well worth it to be away from all those whingeing poor pale-faced proletariat bastards with their shoddy dentistry,” pronounced Lord Ratflinger, the one-legged CEO of Europe’s largest weapons manufacturer, Mutilations-R-Us (SA), and current owner of Smegmadale United FC and Britain’s Labour Party.
Speaking from his wind-powered Maserati wheelchair and accompanied by gay partner, the one-titted Greek-Amazon lesbo property heiress, Sapphica Dildodo, Lord Ratflinger told the press “It’s definitely worth the price, just to be away from that shithole of a world out there”.
“It really is an utter joy living here with our personal computerised Dial-a-Climate system and the pulsa denura security screen guarding the property, fortified with man-eating rotifers, I might add. That was installed to look after my priceless little collection of Wang Dynasty Tuppaware and keep any invading riffraff out”.
Turbo Tatswiller, the tabloids favourite overweight Polynesian Lycra magnate from Luton-on-Sea, gave the Hades Weekly Review his first-hand version of what had gone wrong with the technological Paradise.
“I’m down at Utopia’s Rub and Tug Saloon for a few post-prandial Harvey Headbanger cocktails, getting waited on by all those gorgeous Thai ladyboys and having an oriental tongue massage, when suddenly it’s ‘Boom’! The lights go out, the place turns upside-down and when I come around everywhere stinks of bandicoot shit, I’m trapped in ice up to me bollocks and the ceiling’s on fire. Bye-bye Hedonist Heaven”.
“Anyway, for the first coupla days after it all goes to crap I’ve got some wrinkly old yid twat called Kissinger stuck in the ice next to me and he’s harping on about some gossip that the HAARP weather control array caused a major fuck up with the Earth’s Time-Space-Gravity continuum and opened a portal to the Nth Dimension, whatever the fuck that is. Some know-alling bugger in the next circle reckons it’s what the Catholic tabloids call Hell”.
“Next thing some slitty-eyed grey alien demons yank this Kissinger bloke out and put him through a big bonemeal mincer to shut the whingeing old cunt up. Very nasty way to go, I might tell you. Then they minced up a bunch of screaming Ivy leaguers from Harvard and Yale and made a whopping big lasagne supper out of the mess for the reptiles who run the place. So I’ve not heard any other gossip since, apart from a rumour we’re stuck here for Eternity and no appeals. Until it’s time for another lasagne, anyway”.
Prince Burnedarse of the Neverlands (SS ret. / Iron Cross & bar) and Klaus von Bilderberg (SS ret. / Hot Cross bun), now permanently embedded in the eternal ice of Utopia’s Ninth Circle of Hell, spoke to The Hades Weekly Review’s reporter, freely admitted their involvement in the causes of the World’s crises and opined on the up-ending of their elitist private Paradise.
“The world would have been okay and probably sorted itself out, as financial panics and political shit fights eventually have a habit of doing, if the Zionist loonies hadn’t pulled another of their barmy pre-emptive stunts and got Mossad to blow up Jerusalem so they could waste the Moslems and rebuild Solomon’s temple”.
“Some premier intelligence agency eh, couldn’t tell the difference between a twenty kiloton and a twenty megaton bomb. What a bloody mess. It’s still snowing soot and charred body parts across the Middle East. The Iranians didn’t take too kindly to being blamed for doing it either”.
“Mossad’s false flag mole flu attack across Europe went totally tits up in the same week as well. It only snuffed seven people, all pensioners, but left the entire populations of Germany and Poland with tunnel vision and the autobahns covered in snot. They should have stuck to spreading the Fort Detrick strain bird flu and any left-over anthrax spores. That could have been a real killer”.
“Utopia, our little clandestine Paradise, had been on the cards for years, since the Tavistock Institute gave the Round Table the whisper and a thumbs-down that there was no chance of ever dominating the global population on a permanent basis through their vaunted New World Order and MK-Ultra mind control television programmes. Spiking the drinking water with fluoride only made the populations dumber donkeys than they already were”.
“This was our bolt-hole for when fractional reserve banking loans reached a critical mass and caused the recent chain reaction”.
“We knew everything would eventually go to shit and the masses get really stroppy and opt out for a world-wide revolution with a spot of quid pro quo against their social betters. Us, the historic nobility. Just a matter of postponing the inevitable”.
“Seems paradoxical none of our research academics had ever read Dante Alighieri’s ‘Inferno’ or recognised the irony of pissing around with HAARP to turn the WTC skyscrapers to dust, and cause earthquakes, hurricanes and tsunamis, then blame it on Nature”.
“Our Utopian project seems to have stirred up a bit of a contretemps with Mother Nature, disturbing the immutable order of things. One moment all is honky-dory, the next thing, Utopia’s gone to shit in a handcart, just like the Federal Reserve and central banking systems did’”.
“Some penitent goyim fink trapped in the Eighth Circle’s had an attack of the hysterics and started speculating that the Hand of God was responsible for up-ending our creationist masterpiece as we’re a menagerie of egocentric self-delusionists, and this is the cost of allowing ego to surpass intellect”.
Prince Burnedarse, locked fast and immobile in the eternal ice of Hell’s Ninth Circle, with the fires burning above him, pauses to snap his teeth and spit at an insomniac pterodactyl pecking dispassionately at his left eye, then painfully waxes on once more as the flying lizard turns to peck at von Bilderberg’s pointy bald head.
"You’ll have to excuse Klaus not saying much. A geezenstack tunnelled up his rear passage last night and chewed his tongue off. He never had much of any consequence to say anyway”.
“However, closer to reality, one of the anoraks lodged in the Sixth Circle thinks we’ve created an inter-dimensional shift from the 3rd to 4th density, and that’s the cause of our predicament”.
“Last week everyone was a money-grabbing greedy atheist, now they’re all wingeing penitents spouting philosophical mantras about our fall from grace. A bit late for reconciliation and saying a dozen ‘Hail Mary’s’ as the panacea for their sins. No priests available to take confession anyway, they’re all trapped in the Fourth Circle. To sum it up concisely, we’re all fucked”.
Frank Shitrag, reporting live from Channel X’s news desk, announced the entire dimensional shift and flash freeze at Utopia was recorded live on the citadel’s CCTV cameras and can now be viewed on YouTube.
Those wishing to watch Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand being pecked to shreds by killiwacky birds can tune into the Fifth Circle, specially reserved for total dickheads.
Classified ad’ / The Hades Weekly Review :
“If you’ve breached both human and divine laws and become steeped in all manner of crimes and disgrace, then apply now for a slot in Utopia-Hades, the place all sado-masochist gluttons vie for and adore. Hear the whispers of pain screamed aloud, breathe deeply on the excreted scent of fear and misery. But don’t forget, what you want is not always what you get. Trick or treat and just deserts for such impiety”.
“So give us a call right now on our unique Fibonacci prime sequence telephone system’s toll-free number : 2-3-5-13-89-233-1597, and commit to donating a tissue-typed organ or limb of our choice as a deposit on your personal Circle of Hell”. (Human souls are no longer a viable commodity for transactions)
(Reuters latest: Meek shall inherit the Earth )
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)