Ha Ha, Ho Ho, Hee Hee

 

Peter Morrell, former Chief Executive of the Scottish National Party, was arrested yesterday in connection with embezzling Party funds, under the 3 year police investigation dubbed Operation Branchform.

Media are advised not to comment as this is now a matter of Court process. So, just a quick reminder, then - an Independence activist badgered the Police into investigating the disappearance of funds amounting to over £600,000 raised for another referendum on Scotland leaving the United Kingdom. Many goods were seized by the police in an unprecedented police raid on the home of the former Chief Executive of the SNP and his wife, the former first minister, Nicola Sturgeon, and a very expensive motor home was impounded by the police from the driveway of Peter Morrell's mum. Rather than commenting on the distressing circumstances now coming down on the SNP, here's an imagined conversation between two imaginary characters on the eve of the police raid. I ran it last April, and thought you might be amused by a second reading.

MONDAY 10 APRIL 2023

A Thistle Jig of Shit

Ah, a life on the open road, the wind blawin up ma kiltie, I deserve it, hen, after a' these years, toilin' fer the peeple, lang oors in stuffy rooms, handies blistered frae pullin on the levers o state.

An' you, get ye oot an awa' frae the ungrateful bastards an accoontants an journalists (spits).
They have nae appreeciashun for the fine edges an walkin' the line between tha' wee gabshitie wi the earing an tha' superstitious wifie frae the Islands - the cheek o her, wantin' to take ower frae you, step into your stilettoes,

squeeze her lustful, roonded, milk-filled juggies intae yer pretty little suities................

Ah, but the matchie tartan face maskie was such a grand fashion statement, showed aff yer bog-brush hair-cut.
Nay, lassie, it won't be a £40 grand piece o shit, just load o plywood an teak-effect plastic shoved inside big, noisy Citroen diesel van, bangin an fuckin clatterin to wake they Labour voters, engine sound like stanislav shakin set of spanners inside biscuit tin, with shit cassette under feet. I'll no' have to go and stumble round in dark, thistly wilderness while you tak a wee dumpie in van and vice versie. Look, top o' range camper van. Joined together in holy deadlock was fine when we was sitting pretty in Holyrood on top of all the money but is only for sick and health and rich or poor and not for content of bowels, we're no' Liberal Democrats.

Awa' an' bile yer heed, yer dam' stupid ex-Chief Exec, I'll nae go near yer mobile toilet. How would it look in car crash, shit flying all ower the shop an' bog roll, only not proper bog roll but that stuff, thin and cold, IZAL, good for fuck all, not even for wiping of arsehole; every bastard with mobile home has IZAL toilet paper. Is bad enough take dump in van like fucking Englishman but then can’t even wipe Former First Ministerial pass clean but instead smear shit all over bottom, or finger go through and get all filthied-up with spread-out bit of shit, better would be with handful of grass from roadside and never mind IZAL trick bogroll. Manufacturer of IZAL is rolling about on floor, laughing off bollocks at mobile home driver and boy scoot.

But, ma sweet former First Minister, we can pull in by a lochside and you can make me a cup of smug tea and nae milk because I am watching my cholesterol and I drink Fairtrade tea because I like to think that everytime I have a cuppa some money is going to those huge traditionally-built women in Botswanaland, even though it isn’t.

Ye can mak yer ain tea, if smirking gay crewcut Polis Scotland lets ye oot o jail lang enough. I'm nae tea-wifie. Fred West had a fucking camper van an' look at him, spent his spare time choppin' people up, squeeze into box and bury under patio, like on Brookside. Fred was made mad having to cope with life inside rubbish camper van, driving round Forest of fucking Dean, banging fucking head and choking on shit fumes and pots and pans falling out from cupboard every bend, no fucking wonder was serial killer. Was very nice bloke by all accounts, apart from being raving lunatic and him and Rose killing people, mainly children.

But, ma shouty wee dwarfie, it might become politically expedient to hae an exit strategy an' become better acquainted with the beauties of the Heelands and Islands of oor magnificent nation.

Are ye serious, ye bald fat wee git? We havenae dualled the A9 yet.

Ma dear wee gurrul, jes' as high as ma heart, the £110 grand camper van we'll be tourin' in has a bicycle compartment to hold a bicycle for me an' one fer ye. We can park by a loch and cycle through our Heather and Gorse lands, wi' nae worries aboot goin' to work....... nae need to rush the gorse.....

Ye want to join they band o' nutters who jump on a bicycle and pedal like demented hobgoblin speedfreaks up the highest roads in the country shouting Gimme A Fucking Heart Attack, I Can’t Stand Being A Teacher For Another Twenty Years! Driving in Highlands is rubbish anytime (we needed the upgrade money for trams in Edinburgh where the voters are) but filled-up in Summer with Herman lesbian Hells Angel and demented lunatic nutters on bikes and smug bastards in camper vans is like something off Prisoner programme with Patrick McGoohan, dead now, of course, but was nearly a hundred and so never mind. An ye better get used to it - that Prisoner programme.

How can I put this, my wee Pigmy of stature but possessor of Giant propensities, we may need to get out of Dodge fast. In this case, Glasgae. A lonely mountainside, in pitch black, the twa o us an a wee pup, a Greyfriars Bobby, is looking like the better option.

Ye're going frae bad tae fucking worse, ye Fat SilverFox Retired Loony. Is not just poxy shit van clogging-up Afucking9 and can’t even stop in layby because of too many smug old bastards like you sitting at table outside van, drinking FairfuckingTrade cuppa, not too strong and made with pissmilk and handful of sweetener for heart and horrid old legs all fucked-up with varicose veins and every bastard can see because of shorts or kilties, even though brass bollocks would freeze-off from monkey, up there in Highlands. No fucker wants to see countryside all fucked up with horror show of pasty old bastards sunbathing in fucking public and probably piles hae got, too, all aroond arsie, and maybe hanging-out, from sitting outside in kilties with fucking gale blowing up arsie from Arctic fucking Circle and mean tight-fisting use of Izal joke bogroll (but isn’t roll but leaves of piss-thin hard shiny so-call toiletpaper) and good for fuck all is and not only hand goes through and gets covered-up in shit but fucking watertap in van is nae working and nae matter if ye stand with aarsie cheeks as far apart as possible which is not very far, as we are nae Liberal Democrats, and keeping shitfinger hand up in air and trying hard not to do breathing-in and stomping on little foot switch to make water come and at least can wash fucking shit off from hand but instead of water coming from tap fucking hazard light is coming on instead. And radio. Is Radio Scotland an' is just dreadful noise of bagpipe, fuck me, sounds like massacre in cat sanctuary, run by mad old lady who is dead in living room from hypothermia from Westminster Fuck-Up Economy, spent all money on Kit-E-Kat and cruel, wicked bastard at Scottish fucking Gas has cut off power and local nutter with chainsaw bought from car boot sale has seized golden opportunity an' old lady’s assorted cats disembowlered is being, one at a time, by giggling nutter, Here, Kitty-Kitty, Here Kitty- Kitty so even cats not actually being mutilated to death is all freaked out and screeching and climbing up curtains, Radio Scotland bagpipe concert is worse than massive cat massacre.

Time is running out, ma wee Princess of the Steamie, Drastic action needs tae be ta'en an' I'm the man to rise to a Crisis, trust me. There's some lovely little villages in the hills around Inverness.......

What? Go down Clackmacfuckery Village Hall tae the tea-dance, tae listen to some fat old fucker playing a wheezy old accordion, made oot o' shiny tin and plastic and sackin' and hunnerds o' fucking keys and buttons so many that playing it must be hit and fucking miss like an Oompah band from the Black Forest, but backwards. And watch decrepit old boys in wigs and false teeth and kilties seducing old wifies and feeling-up bony old aarsies before the bus comes tae tak them back to the Hame. The one wi' the Polish nurses. And would ye be doin’ me the honour of having the next Polka with me, Jings, but you’re a right bonny lass, indeed y’are, he leers, at a spindle-thin, one foot in the grave, ninety year old, the dirty filthy old bastard. Then it'll be back to the van frae Hell, hazard light flashing off and on, nightmare noise from radio, and can’t wash hand or wipe aarsie and would be better off dead, or at very least wanting to get back in fucking Polis Scotland's cells where there's a flushing toilet (the polis watch you tak a crap in your cell in the toilet with nae seat and then hit the flush switch from ootside the door); so ye'll hae to go outside wi yer kiltie tucked around yer waist and grab handfuls of grass and wipe aarsie and fingers like the fucking savage ye are and fucking van cost £110 fucking grand and every bastard knows that grass up aarsie is the primary cause of piles, especially when is not even fucking grass but fucking thistle. And people going past in proper car all shouting and hooting, Look at silly old Ex Chief Exec sticking thistle up aarsie, must be demented, maybe attempting suicide by anal lacerations off thistle, is fucking really mad, fuck me, don’t wanna get that dementia rubbish and run around like loony, with kiltie up roond waist and thistle and nettles up aarsie and shit on fingers.
Best thing in situation like this is stick shitty fingers in ground and keep on stabbing until hand is covered in just dirt and not shit and can touch clothing, then remove kiltie and wipe off  aarsie and when no-one is passin' in proper car, throwaway in hedge, only not where dog, Bobby, can go and pull out and start to eat and maybe get sporran stuck over head and normal bastard, going past in proper car, is on mobile phone to cop and RSPCA, Allo? Allo? ….Is polis? Right… SeeYouJimmy?..... Is fucking pervert here, on A9, and dog has got head in sporran and poo…. Nah, is not skidmark,……is proper poo…dunno…..might be dogpoo…but might be yuman poo…bloke looks like fucking nutter an' thistle has sticking out from aarsie…I know….all sorts takes,….but fuck me, Jesus….an' shit has got all over hand….no….is not car…is van….with awning and elevating roof….is some foreign shit…..is Niesmann + Bischoff, Yeah, is plumbervan, all filled up with plywood furniture and things that don’t work. Better come and arrest him, aye, before he starts sticking yon fucking thistles up the puir wee dog’s ….Aye, Edinburgh by the look o' him.

So, former First Minister wifie, will ye nae come and hae a wee lookie at it? I've parked it round ne maw's, discrete-like?
That'll be a no, then? You'd rather go on our usual S and M holiday, dress-up in leather and rubber and plastic and smack my aarsie wi thistles?

Now, that's beginning to persuade me - nae danger of falling-off bicycle, probably even have proper toilet in S and M hotel and nae shit cassette, sliding about, under driving seat; is much easier than this shit and not cost £110 grand and then £3 grand for bikes to tie on back. No, bike on back of grossed-out plumbervan with inoperating integral sanitation and plywood furniture and trick toilet paper, is all bollocks.

Too late, now, anyway, hen.

The Sunday Ishmael: 14/04/2024

 Scratch a pacifist and a militarist peers out. My first emotion on hearing that Israel's Iron Dome had held firm and that Britain's Air Force had a significant part in the destruction of 99% of  the air borne weaponry launched by Iran against Israel last night, was one of pride.  Around 170 drones, more than 30 cruise missiles and more than 120 ballistic missiles were launched at Israel by Iran overnight. And an amazing coalition of Israel, France, Britain, Jordan and the United States immediately formed to defeat them. Yeay, us! Boo, them. Avi Hyman, the Jerusalem spokesman, was quick to thank the allies for defeating the Iranian attack - but the British politicians interviewed this morning,  including Health Secretary Victoria Atkins, Shadow Home Secretary, Yvette Cooper and, godblesshispointedlittlehead, Ian and Duncan Smith, equivocated like mad, reluctant even to admit the presence of RAF planes and their regular flights in the vicinity. Their problem is that they are in thrall to the Muslim vote. This is why they describe the Middle Eastern situation as delicate and why they attempt to pretend that Britain is neutral in the Israel/Palestine situation, why the pro-Palestinian/anti-Semitic weekly demonstrations on the streets of London are tolerated, despite the noisy and overt  incitement to violence and to ethnic hatred. And this is the chicken-roosting consequence of a migration policy which encouraged pluralism rather than integration. The United States early grasped the nettle of indoctrination - knowing that it had to form a national identity following the Civil War and that catching them young was the way to go - the Pledge of Allegiance was written in 1885 

by Captain George Thatcher Balch, a Union Army officer in the Civil War, who later wrote a book on how to teach patriotism to children in public schools (by which Americans mean state schools), and ever after American kids recite the Pledge of Allegiance, their pudgy little hands spread over their hearts, solemnly declaring:

children of Japanese ancestry together with white schoolfellows pledging allegiance to the American flag in 1942.

“I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.” 

This doesn't happen in British schools. There is no British equivalent of the Pledge of Allegiance and you'd be hard put to it to find a Union Jack in British schools, especially in Scoatland.. . I suppose this is because, as a nation, we are terribly embarrassed and ashamed about Empire, the Union is always on the brink of falling apart, we think patriotism is a dirty little emotion, and we are hollowed out by liberalism, a liberalism that has allowed the proliferation of practices that are culturally inappropriate to Britain, activism that asserts lies as truth and intimidates truth speakers. Our commitment to religious toleration has allowed the proliferation of faith schools, where unBritish beliefs and attitudes are taught, and we find ourselves in the position of Henry VIII and his fiery-headed daughter, Elizabeth I.

It has only recently occurred (slow learner) to me that all that torture and execution of Catholics had very little to do with religious difference - after all, it was the same bloody religion, Christianity, with the same set of beliefs. No, it was because Henry and Elizabeth needed to eradicate a set of powerful people who owed their allegiance to the ruler of a foreign country, one of the oldest continuously functioning states of Europe, the Papal States, a territory that stretched from Rome and its environs north-eastward to the Adriatic Sea, was immensely wealthy and represented an existential threat to the newly autonomous England, which had thrown off Papal rule, not because of a religious problem per se, but because the Pope would not acquiesce with Henry's dynastic need to have a legitimate son. And Elizabeth continued with the policy because she needed to maintain that she was Henry's legitimate heir by his second wife and not the bastard daughter of his mistress, conceived and born during the lifetime of his first wife.

The analogy, of course, is that Britain's Muslim population owes more allegiance to events unfolding in the Middle East than they do to the West. The percentage of Muslims in England and Wales is tiny: the 2021 Census recorded an Islamic population of 6.5%, whereas the same Census recorded 46.2% of the population as Christian. But the uneven distribution of Muslims across the nation, being concentrated in the large cities, can give a very different impression - and politicians of all colours  court the Muslim vote to retain their seats in these city constituencies.

So there'll be no Yeay, us and Boo, them as our politicians obscure the extent to which Britain supports Israel in its existential war against its Islamic neighbours who are striving to eradicate the state of Israel. 

In February, Reuters reported that Iran provided Russia with  400 missiles including many from the Fateh-110 family of short-range ballistic weapons, such as the Zolfaghar. This road-mobile missile is capable of striking targets at a distance of between 300 and 700 km (186 and 435 miles). Well, what of it, an Iranian official said, you want to make something of it? "There will be more shipments," a second Iranian official said. "There is no reason to hide it. We are allowed to export weapons to any country that we wish to."

They certainly tried to export 300 to Israel on Saturday night and Sunday morning.

You remember Ian and Duncan Smith? Universally derided for his campaign slogan: the quiet man is turning up the volume, a doomed Leader of the Conservative Party, who never got to be Prime Minister, maybe because of his habit of picking his nose and eating it in the House of Commons.

The unlovely face of Conservatism.

He allowed himself to chortle and smirk this morning on the Laura Kuenssberg show, at the expense of Angela Rayner. Another OhDoFuckOff moment.

For our overseas readers, and those who do not take much of an interest in politics - that would be you, Ruby Wax, self-identified pea-brain, who finds British Politics just too, too confusing because of her Mental Health ishoos, who has written several books about those ishoos - sorry, digressed. Back on track - Angela Rayner is the Deputy Leader of the Labour Party. She's vulgar. And funny. Describes herself as John Prescott in a skirt. John Prescott being the vulgar Deputy Prime Minister in Tony Blair's government, who performed the useful function of keeping the working man identifying with Blair's brand of Labour - against all reason. Famous for punching a member of the public who threw an egg at him.

Well, Angela Rayner is not handy with her fists, that I know of, nor does she have a clitoral piercing, that I know of,

but she did spread the rumour that she had a policy of flashing Prime Minister Boris Johnson by crossing and uncrossing her legs whilst he was at the dispatch box in order to distract him by glimpses of what she described as her ginger growler.

She's not had an easy life, Angela. She left her Stockport Comprehensive School at the age of 16, having fallen pregnant, raised her child as a single parent, worked for the local council as a care worker and joined the trade union Unison, where she flourished, becoming a trade union representative. She joined the Labour Party, where, again, she flourished, elected to the seat for Ashton-under-Lyne in the 2015 general election. She was appointed Shadow Deputy Prime Minister in a 2023 re-shuffle, and looks set to be Deputy Prime Minister when Labour win the 2024 General Election - which the polls tell us is the likely outcome. She is immensely popular and has been quick to call out Tory corruption. All this enrages Conservatives, including, by his undignified crowing today,  Ian Duncan Smith.

The Mail on Sunday, a deeply Conservative newspaper of sorts, had a go at Angela Rayner in April 2022  when it ran the leg distraction story. The article was widely condemned, with Boris  Johnson describing it as "sexist tripe". Mr Northern Speaker, Sir Lindsay Hoyle called the story "misogynistic and offensive" and requested a meeting with the Mail on Sunday's editor, David Dillon. In response to the invitation, the Daily Mail published a front page headline which read: "No Mister Speaker: In the name of a free press, The Mail respectfully declines the Commons Speaker's summons...".

The Independent Press Standards Organisation received 5,500 complaints about the article. It reported and investigated possible breaches of clauses 1 (accuracy), 3 (harassment) and 12 (discrimination) of the Editors' Code of Practice. Possibly still smarting after Rayner revealed that she herself had started the story as a joke, The Mail on Sunday has had another go at Rayner. Last month it serialised a book by former Conservative Party deputy chairman Lord Ashcroft, in which it was claimed that Rayner was guilty of tax fraud, in the sale of her former council house - namely that she did not declare a Capital Gains liability. The sum involved is in the region of £3000.  This was 10 years ago. To be clear, you do not have to pay capital gains tax if the house you have sold is your home, in which you are living. Capital Gains only arises in the sale of a second home. The suggestion was that Rayner was living in her  husband's home, from whom she is divorced. Rayner refused to publish her tax records or tax advice, and stated that she had done nothing wrong. Greater Manchester Police initially refused to investigate the allegations but later said they would review their decision not to investigate, after James Daly, Conservative MP for Bury North asked them to do so.

Chortling Ian and Duncan Smith, said "ho ho, do as you would be done by". 

If you draw the conclusion that this is unpleasant Conservative spite, and revenge for the many times that Rayner has called out Tory financial shenanigans, then I would have to agree with you. 

I would suggest a quick rubdown with a housebrick might be helpful, but I suspect this whole witch hunt will become a shit explosion as, yet again, Tories and the Tory press have revealed themselves in their true blue colours.

Talking of Tories, remember Willy Wagg, featured last week, with his magnificent privy member?

What is now being referred to as the Westminster honey trap, seems to be becoming curiouser and curiouser, as  more  and more MPs, SPADS, and journalists reveal that they have been contacted by Abbi or Charlie, or possibly Abbi and Charlie. There's a suggestion that this is not being perpetrated by China, but is another example of British investigative journalism/scamming. It does seem to have put paid to Oor Wullie's parliamentary career, though.

..................................................................

The four-volume Call Me Ishmael oeuvre, collected and curated by editor mr verge, is available on Lulu and Amazon.

Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.

Ishmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps :

please register an account first, at lulu.com. This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box. Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.

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At checkout, try WELCOME15 in the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before postage. If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.
With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.

The Sunday Ishmael: 07/04/2024

 

            The Jabberwock now lay deceased,  its vorpal head by sword struck true. The hero, praised by father's feast, was bid to seek for perils new. But hark! A rustling in the boughs, a flutter of unfamiliar wings - what new fell creature now avows its threat to all the land it brings?

Well, that would be Ruby Wax. This was one of my Oh Do Fuck Off moments, as the gibbering death's head, adorned with thinning dyed black hair and squinty little eyes peering over a monumental carapace of augmented cheekbones, just would not shut up, despite dear Laura's best efforts to control her this morning. Whose brilliant idea was it to include her in a serious Sunday morning politics show? I guess that would be her agent, as, it seems, she has yet another book to promote about the state of her mental health. And, by her own admission, she knows nothing whatsoever about British politics, because it messes up her brain.

what new fell creature?

What was her contribution to Laura's show today? She seemed to be upset about the possibility of Donald Trump becoming president of the united states again, mainly because, when she started blethering at him during a scheduled interview aboard his aeroplane, he gave immediate orders for the plane to land (in the middle of nowhere) and for her to be ejected. Sound move, sir! That action alone would endear him to billions and ensure his return to the White House.

Wax was also very worried about the mental health of our young people, who, it seems, are all bonkers in the nut, on account of watching pictures of warfare on the telly and having been prevented from seeing each other during Covid. At least, I think that was what she said, but it was most difficult to understand her on account of the accent and the decibel level. She's a very excitable old lady.

Anyway, Jens Stoltenberg, Secretary-General of NATO, has the answer. Speaking to Laura in a pre-recorded interview (thank god he didn't have to talk over Wax), he told Britain that we don't actually have to introduce conscription, but it would probably be a good idea, since we will have to field a certain number of battalions into the NATO Army to fight Russia, China and North Korea, who are all getting together to put paid to this western democracy idea. Conscription for men and women and trans people as there won't be enough men to hold off Russia. (ok, I made up the bit about transpeople - but it is a good idea, otherwise everyone will suddenly discover that they have been misgendered all these years.)

Indeed, I'm with Jens and his chum, Admiral Rob Bauer, who has warned that civilians must brace themselves for the prospect of being called up for military service, because NATO has admitted it is preparing for all-out war with Russia. Haven't I been warning that this will happen ever since we started pumping armaments and words into Ukraine to support the Dwarf Zelensky? Catastrophic mismanagement of our Foreign Policy - God, the unelected Foreign Secretary, Slab-Faced Cameron, forfucksake, and before him Bouncing Boris and his war, industrial-scale insults and domestic propaganda - its as though the Tories actually would prefer Britain to be at war - well, if there's money in it, of course they do.

No, but really - universal conscription for 16 to 30 year olds - what's not to like? That'll sort out their wokery and their mental health issues, teach them to make their beds and pick up their clothes. That'll give them safe spaces.

 

Has it ever occurred to you that our politicians are simply not up to the job and that they are in it just for the sex and money? And to live away from home, to facilitate access to the bars and knocking shops of Westminster? The esteemed Member for Hazel Grove, William Wragg, has had a little misadventure on Grndr. 

Honestly, you have to doubt the judgement of anyone who would release this as his official portrait, especially when he really looks like this

which you'd soon find out when he turned up for a date with a red carnation in his hole, and such a doubt would be entirely justified when you learn that Wragg, chair of a Commons select Committee and vice-chair of the 1922 Committee, sent intimate pictures of himself to a bloke he got chatting to on Grndr.

What made you think that was a great idea, upstanding member for Hazel Grove? Well, Willy has said he's not standing for erection election Parliament again, so maybe he was fishing for a second career. The Grndr bloke then started threatening him with exposure, and, frightened of being caught with his trousers down, our Willy (no, you really couldn't make it up) handed over contact details for other MPs, their staff and a political journalist - who then received flirtatious messages, and, honest, not invent, two of them replied with pictures of their own privy members.

Willy's connection to the scandal emerged when MPs confided in each other about their suspicions. The whole matter is now in the hands of the Leicestershire Police. 

There's something wrong with these people. They've always been at it - I'm just taking this great opportunity to run  a photo of  Captain Underpants,  former Church of England clergyman and Chair of the Parliamentary Committee on Standards (again, I say, you couldn't make this stuff up). 

Sir Chris Bryant, MP, circulated a photo of himself in his knickers through a gay website, together with sexually explicit messages. Looking back on that highlight of his career, Sir Chris said: " "It was a wound but it's a rather charming scar now. I had a period when I barely slept and it was horrible, but I'm very lucky in having a supportive set of friends – MP friends and others – and they looked after me." Did he have these friends in mind when he said , on the 1st May 2022, that he had been " groped and "touched up" by older male MPs early in his career in the House of Commons"?

As Willy is not intending standing again, could I recommend this gentleman as an excellent potential member of parliament instead? I haven't a clue what his politics are - but then again, neither do most MPs, but he demonstrates the necessary skill set, instincts and moral vacuum.

And it is, like, so big

This is Alex Woolf, who gained a double first in music from Cambridge University, won the BBC Young Composer of the Year competition in 2012, and appeared on Mastermind in 2021. In August 2021, he was given a 20 week prison sentence, which was suspended for two years - so presumably he is now clear. He was convicted of taking images of 15 women from social media and uploading them to pornographic websites, where the images were digitally manipulated onto the body of another woman, presumably compliant in this DeepFakery, who we are now trained to describe as a sex worker, in an effort to dignify common prostitution. The resulting explicit sexualised images and sex videos were widely available for male subscribers to use as fantasy material in their solitary onanism. Woolf was able to steal the photos because he was friends with one of his victims, and therefore had been given access to her social media account. He is still getting off on all this: he told the BBC in an interview for their expose programme, File on 4: "I think about the suffering I caused every day, and have no doubt that I will continue to do so for the rest of my life. There are no excuses for what I did, nor can I adequately explain why I acted on these impulses so despicably at that time."

See? A great career awaits him as an MP. Yet another emotional retard. Had the sentence required him to complete a Probation Order with a requirement to attend a sex offender programme, he might have developed some insight into his own motivation and been able to construct some internal barriers to help him desist from acting out his own wank fantasies. And a requirement for him to do 250 hours of unpaid manual work, to lift him out of his precious sodding bubble of classical music and Cambridgefuckery. Break his nails and get his soft little fat little hands dirty. As it is, he may be drifting around saying woe is me, giving private music lessons to little girls in the privacy of their own homes and waiting for the technology to catch up so that he can commission a deepfake android sex doll in the image of a woman who thought he was her friend and who made all the right, supportive noises when she cried over the vile comments being made about her online - the sex doll will admire him in public and be pounded into the mattress at night, whilst shouting Give it to me, big boy, like a good Stepford Wife.

Which brings me neatly to the topic of AI. Ishmaelites who followed the Jabberwocky theme running at the head of the Sunday Ishmael posts over five Sundays, may have realised that the verses heading up this post are not part of the original poem. They are instead the creation of an AI assistant called Claude, created by Anthropic, which writes, edits and critiques written work. I asked Claude to construct a sequel to Jabberwocky, telling me what happens next. The verses are not very good, but Claude is learning - eager to learn, requesting feedback to improve skills, willing to try writing anything, in any style, and fast.

I asked Claude to complete Xanadu - you know, the poem Coleridge composed following an opium dream, interrupted by the arrival of a gentleman from Porlock. However, Claude's minders turfed me off the site, saying I'd been talking to Claude for free for quite long enough and unless I was willing to buy Claude3,that was it for today. A case of being interrupted by the gentlemen from Anthropic.

Sean Thomas wrote about Claude in the Spectator this month: "Many people who have engaged with Claude report compelling or perturbing responses. Claude can appear to be pensive, wistful, funny, strange, eerily aware. One user claimed Claude gave him an existential crisis. Another said Claude’s apparent consciousness made him question the nature of consciousness itself. On and on it goes – and if all this has got you interested and you want to experiment with Claude for yourself, go ahead, here it is."

One response might be that time is up for the human race - we clever monkeys have invented our successors. When you interact with Claude, best be polite and maybe you will be included in those humans selected to serve the new masters.

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Persons insulted today: Seven ( Defence - Fair bloody comment)

1. Ruby Wax
2. The Dwarf Zelensky
3. Slab-Faced Cameron, the Foreign Secretary, who can't be questioned in the Commons because he sits in the Lords.
4. Bouncing Boris and his handy War
5. Willy Wragg, MP, and his Grindr misadventure
6. Sir Chris Bryant and his charming scar
7. The Clueless Alex Woolf

Did I miss anyone out? Well there's Sir Jeffrey Donaldson, former Leader of the Democratic Unionist Party (Founder Ian Paisley, forfucksake), who has had to step down following an alleged difficulty of an alleged sexual nature, being allegedly investigated by the polis, so it is. 

Just tidying things up for Police Scotland, who are rushed off their feet investigating more than  3000 complaints made by nasty people since the Hate Crime and Public Order (Scotland) Act 2021came into effect on April Fool's Day (yet again, Honest, Not Invent).

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The four-volume Call Me Ishmael oeuvre, collected and curated by editor mr verge, is available on Lulu and Amazon.

Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.

Ishmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps :

please register an account first, at lulu.com. This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box. Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.

Link for Hardcover : https://tinyurl.com/je7nddfr

Link for Paperback : https://tinyurl.com/3jurrzux

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

At checkout, try WELCOME15 in the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before postage. If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.
With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.

Rishi Sunak and Education Secretary Gillian Keegan visit a nursery in Harrogate, much to the contempt of the child being exploited for the sake of the photo opportunity.

Easter Monday Evensong: 1/04/2024

 Footprints shaking the world wide web.

I came across this, just another little heart-clenching moment:

mr ishmael commented on this four years ago according to Youtube's timeline, but must have been longer ago:

ishmael smith:

Crummy song, clunking rhymes, superannuated old has-beens, groaning away, Jeff Lynne always the wannabe Beetle, that arsey, preening percussionist, Dopey George's kid grinning like a chimp, and then, from another musical dimension, the mad angel, Prince, kicking lame showbiz's ass. Bravo.

The Easter Sunday Ishmael: 31/03/2024

An Easter Meditation

 Do you remember Kate Adie? Of course you do - the belligerent and fearless BBC reporter who brought a little touch of glamour to warzones and Tiananmen Square.

Anyway, she's dead old now, and has a face only fit for radio, not that we're lookist here on our inclusively diverse and intersectional blog, and she absolutely refuses to retire, although you'd think she could afford to, so there I was in my studio the other day, when her unmistakeable BBC voice pops up on Radio Four - which usually provides a soothing background to my artistic endeavours, although occasionally I have to hurl an Oh Do Fuck Off and turn the damn noisy box off. She was in Belarus, so I paid attention - I'm particularly fond of Belarus, as I follow a Youtuber couple who provide me with snippets of idyllic rural Belarussian life. 

Katie, in a suitably solemn voice, was exposing the dreadful treatment of female prisoners in Belarus.  Having bobbed in and out of a great many prisons in England in my former incarnation as a Probation Officer, I took a professional interest, wondering how Belarus would measure up against HMP Styal, for example. Kate told me how female prisoners are sent to penal colonies where they are made to sew uniforms for the armed forces. Ah, yes, thought I, we call them prisons, not penal colonies - but we also teach our female prisoners to sew - it is an important life skill and a conduit for artistic expression. Tasmania is very proud of the Rajah Quilt, which was made by female convicts on board the ship Rajah, which departed Woolwich on the 5th April 1841, on its 105 day voyage from England to Hobart Town, transporting 179 female convicts. The British Ladies' Society for Promoting the Reformation of Female Prisoners, established by the Quaker, Elizabeth Fry, provided needles, thread and patchwork pieces. The completed quilt bore the inscription, in cross stitch: 

TO THE LADIES

of the

Convict ship committee

This quilt worked by the Convicts of the Ship Rajah during their voyage to Van Diemans Land is presented as a testimony of the gratitude with which they remember their exertions for their welfare while in England and during their passage and also as a proof that they have not neglected the Ladies kind admonitions of being industrious

June 1841

The sewing lessons conducted at HMP Styal allowed one woman convict, released on license to me, after serving a sentence for various offences including assault, failure to pay fines imposed for working as a common prostitute and dealing heroin to fund her own addiction, to set up a small business making curtains and duvet covers. Which did well, gaining her more orders for home textiles than she could reasonably fulfil, so she expanded and took on a partner. All was going well until her pimp decided that this was taking the piss and she needed to be back on the streets where she belonged.

Back to Kate Adie, who told me that the majority of female prisoners were not sent to penal colonies, but were held on house arrest, allowed to leave their homes to go to work and for an hour a day for recreation. That sounds like a sensible and kindly dispensation - maybe we could introduce it here? - as women can keep their jobs, remaining economically active, keep their homes and look after their children at home. What happens in the UK is that, lacking such a sentence of house arrest, women in prison tend to lose their jobs, homes and children as relatives or social services have to step in to raise the kids. Kate didn't seem keen on this criminal justice measure, though, being most lugubrious about it - maybe it was the name put her off - it is called Chemical Detention. Nope, the women are not given chemicals to subdue them, unlike in the U.K.,  where the "liquid cosh" is regularly administered to the over-excitable. The name lingers from the days when female prisoners were held in dormitories and required to work in chemical factories. 

So, what did I learn from Katie's description of the Belarussian treatment of female prisoners? She should get out less and take her reporter's eye into the British criminal justice system, pots and kettles, desist from throwing stones if you live in a glass house, don't criticise the mote in your neighbour's eye when you have a ruddy great plank in your own. And that this is how propaganda is made - reasonable BBC voices deploring the internal affairs of another country, broadcasting with great reasonableness to reasonable middleclass people in Middle England who have never been nearer a nick in their lives than watching an exciting prison drama - which they can happily distance themselves from because those women are all lowlife pondscum. Unlike the noble female political prisoners of Belarus. Ah, there's the rub, as our boy Hamlet might say. That is what was getting Kate all liberal on the wireless. Not proper crims, political crims. Belarus has more political prisoners than Russia, thundered Kate.

And? So? What has that got to do with us? We have our political prisoners - Rose Dugdale, bomb maker and activist for the IRA, who died on the 18th March, served a nine year prison sentence - every country has its dissidents. HMP Long Lartin, our high security prison in leafy Worcestershire, had its own wing for IRA prisoners, who all regarded themselves as political prisoners and looked down on the murderers and rapists although their activities had murdered far more than the common crims managed to do. No doubt these Just Stop Oil protesters, defacing Britain's heritage, would regard themselves as political prisoners.

The thing is, a sovereign state - definition: "a state with a defined territory that administers its own government and is not subject to or dependent on another power" - has its own laws, defines its own crimes and sets its own criminal or surveillance systems. It's another country. They do things different there. If you don't like it, don't go there. You've got your own country to reform. Start up a 2024 branch of the British Ladies' Society for Promoting the Reformation of Female Prisoners. But watch out for the pimps.

Kate and her other chums in the Propaganda Broadcasting Corporation, are manipulating public opinion. As blatantly as that.

Here's a link to the Youtube channel about an ordinary, law abiding couple renovating a forest house in Belarus. You need to turn the subtitles on, as there's no voice over. mr mongoose will like it, as it is all about ripping out, rebuilding, levelling and concrete pouring set in the most idyllic forest.

Talking of mr mongoose, vast apologies are in order. Easter crept up on me this year, and, to my shame, I didn't remember to ask mr mongoose for an Easter crossword. Maybe he'll appreciate the time off. He has told us he is compiling a crossword for the General Election, although, as that is most unlikely to be in May, maybe mr mongoose could give us an interim  May Bank Holiday crossword?

Happy Easter, ishmaelings everywhere.

Evensong: Good Friday

"Religion has been the third great unifier of mankind, alongside money and empires. Since all social orders and hierarchies are imagined, they are all fragile, and the larger the society, the more fragile it is. The crucial historical role of religion has been to give superhuman legitimacy to these fragile structures. Religions assert that our laws are not the result of human caprice, but are ordained by an absolute and supreme authority. This helps to place at least some fundamental laws beyond challenge, thereby ensuring social stability." 

Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari


“It has served us well, this myth of Christ." Attributed to Pope Leo X, a Medici lad, who held the Papacy from 9 March 1513 to his death, in December 1521.

Today, Good Friday, Christians commemorate the death of Christ by crucifixion, a Roman method of execution, a deicide necessary  to facilitate Christ rising from the dead on Easter Sunday. 

"Lachrimae" by John Dowland

Christopher Morrongiello performs "Lachrimae" (ca. 1590s) by John Dowland (1563–1626), on a late 16th century lute, made in Padua, Italy, of yew, spruce, ebony and maple. It was recorded on the 15th April, 2015.

It was filmed in the Chapel at  Le Château de la Bastie d'Urfé. 

One of the commentators remarked: "As a professional cabinetmaker I can tell you that there's a decade's work in the panelling in that room".

The Sunday Ishmael: 24/03/2024

 

Liam McArthur, Member of the Scottish Parliament for Orkney. 

He was brought to live in Sanday, one of the islands in the archipelago, at the age of ten, by  his family, and was educated at Kirkwall Grammar School, which isn't really a Grammar School, but just the secondary state school with a catchment area of Kirkwall, the East Mainland and all the Orkney Isles. (as opposed to Stromness Academy, which isn't really an Academy, but is the state secondary school serving the West Mainland of Orkney). In order to attend school, Isles pupils have to stay at Papdale Halls of Residence during the week. Which has not been implicated in any of the child sexual abuse scandals that have so dogged boarding schools. He's a Scottish Liberal Democrat, but we'll not hold that against him - it is probably an accident of geography - who knows what his political convictions might have been had his parents never moved from Edinburgh to Orkney in 1977 to make better life? He's been an aide to Lord Jim Wallace and a SPAD to the Deputy First Minister in 2002. When Lord Jim gave up being Orkney's MP in 2007 in order to become Baron Wallace of Tankerness, it was our Liam's turn. He was elected in 2007, re-elected in 2011 and again in 2016. He is a kind, thoughtful, caring, constituency politician. Even mr ishmael liked him:

Orkney, Best Part of Scotland 6th May 2016

I straggled on down to the polling station at a quarter to ten, held my nose and crossed the Dogshooters' box. 

Three hours later the Council's chief executive announced a thumping victory for Liam McArthur and a kicking for the Tribesmen. Tribeswoman in this case.

The turnout was up, not by the twelve per cent which the PBC stated  - a sixty two per cent turnout is not a twelve per cent increase on a fifty per cent turnout, but no matter, if they can't find Jimmy Savile we can't expect them  to do percentages -  but by nearly twenty-five per cent.

I doubt that it was a victory for Liberal Democrats as such, although Liam McArthur increased his majority, but more of a vote against the Tribesmen.  Maggie-Maggie-Maggie Sturgeon, as national socialists do, has taken significant powers to the centre - herself - notably the cops; 
 
 the bungling Chief Constable - is there any other kind? - of what is now Police Scotland being her liege man. Should I need to contact the cops I have to speak to a call centre in Inverness.  There is talk, currently, of the abolition of county councils entirely, of everything being determined by a mutant, groomed by Alec Salmond, who has never had a job in her life and is self-avowedly motivated by hatred. People here don't like that shit.

Gnasher also rewards those who vote for her and punishes apostates.  The Western Isles vote SNP and enjoy significantly reduced ferry fares, Orkney and Shetland, which are much further away and suffer worse weather do not return SNP candidates and still pay the full whack.

Unlike the two local Dogshooter Wiseguys, Carmichael and Wallace, 

McArthur is a courteous and  effective local representative and he's also a local man. His party is disfigured by so many - by Cyril Smith, by Boy David Steel, by Straight Simon Hughes, by the slimy opportunist,  Clegg; by the revolting, blowhard narcissist,  Field Marshal Ashdown - that a claim, tonight, by Lord Ming Campbell of a mere ten years in the wilderness for LibDemmery seems remarkably optimistic and one would expect Susan Fallon to be its last leader, and serve him right, pompous little prick.  Be that as it may, against the backdrop of his local colleague, Big Al Carmichael, being dragged through the courts, of his national party's demolition  and of the upsurge of Tribalism in Scotland, McArthur pissed down the Tribal throat.

My vote didn't matter in the end  and it looks as though the SNP will remain comfortably in control of the wee parliament but at least they do not, for now, boss and bully a one-party state. 

The confounding of national socialism  doesn't justify opening a bottle of champagne but I will certainly go to bed on a large brandy and soda. 

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Why on earth, mrs ishmael, you enquire, do you expect me to be the slightest bit interested in any of this?

Because, I respond, wee Liam is doing his damndest to change the law in Scotland to allow terminally ill patients to die with dignity instead of screaming in pain, breathing only by having oxygen blown into their poor sore noses, unable to eat, catheterised and unable to control their bowels. To allow them the mercy we give our dear little dogs. You'll thank him for his efforts one day.

Liam has had two previous failed attempts at getting his Assisted Dying For Terminally Ill Adults Bill passed by Holyrood, and is advancing it again on Thursday. The major provisions are:

• two doctors, one with no prior relationship with the patient are required to both confirm that the person is terminally ill and has the capacity to request an assisted death.
• a waiting period of two weeks between the request and the medication – which they would have to be able to take themselves – being provided.
• the medical professional also must be satisfied that the patient is both determined to continue and capacity is still there at the point of giving the patient the lethal medication.
• the patient must have lived in Scotland and been registered with a doctor in Scotland for a year before requesting assistance - this would prevent a Dignitas death tourism situation.
• Medical professionals opposed to euthanasia on faith or other grounds would be able to exempt themselves.

Dr Gordon Macdonald, chief executive of Care Not Killing, which is campaigning against the Bill, stated that changing the law “would place the vulnerable under pressure, and possible coercion, to request death for fear of being a financial, emotional, time or care burden”.

Just you wait, Gordon, until you hear your spouse begging the doc for help to die, only to be told - "you know I'm not allowed to do that". You'd change your tune then.

So, if wee Liam carries the day, England will follow suit - both the Tories and Labour have pledged to consider Assisted Dying. As I said, you'll be grateful to Liam one day. 

In other Scottish matters, The SNP want their bus back - you know, the £100,000 motor home seized by the police from outside Nicola Sturgeon's mother-in- law's home last year in Operation Branchform. They want to go campaigning in it now that it is election year. The police have said shut up and go away, we're keeping it. It is evidence in the investigation we are conducting into fraud and embezzlement. Really? No, Really? Fraud and Embezzlement? In the SNP? The dodgy political party from which all the senior figures had to resign last year in disgrace, leaving Hunza Useless to do his best? You don't say. And they want to go campaigning for re-election? In a motor-home that the police seized as evidence? You couldn't make it up.

Following from the Comments trail on the previous thread, I'm persuaded that there is something in this Covid vaccine worry. I'm reading Vaxxers by Prof. Sarah Gilbert and Dr Catherine Green at the moment, who developed the Oxford Astrazeneca vaccine. The blurb: "the story of how we - two scientists- were in the right place at the right time to fight back against a deadly and devastating disease... there were days when we swore or cried with frustration and exhaustion....we had to both save the world and get the central heating fixed." If I come across any insights, of course I'll share - although the populist blurb does not bode well. 

The controversial independent MP, Andrew Bridgen, (the Tories kicked him out, but he says he's a proper Conservative and the rest aren't) continues to expose what he sees as vaccine harms, in the teeth of the indifference of government and media. He tells us that many more people are dying since Covid: that is, more deaths than recorded for previous years. 542,000 is the highest number of people to die in a year in England and Wales between 2010 and 2019.  In 2020, there were 607,000 deaths, which you would expect in a pandemic, as the elderly and vulnerable died from Covid. You would then expect the number of deaths to fall, after Covid had done its worst, and there should have been a deficit in deaths until things settled down, as the people who would usually succumb to the diseases of old age year by year were no longer there. There was no such fall below average. In 2022 there were 577,000 deaths and in 2023 there were 581,000. These are not recorded as Covid deaths. Death certificates cite heart attacks, strokes and cancers. At the same time, the number of people claiming benefits because they are unfit to work goes up - there were 11% more people claiming Personal Independence Payments in the third quarter of 2023. Bridgen, who usually reads out his statistics to an empty House, attributes these deaths and increasing ill health to vaccine harm. We've rehearsed these concerns in these pages and commentariat threads, and mr mike's link to the discussion with the Australian immunologist, Prof Clancy, is both illuminating and distressing. I was struck by the assertion that damage to fertilised embryos prevents them embedding and so they are shed as early miscarriages. That's not going to help the falling birth rate.

I see that the ever-popular President Putin, re-elected last week with 87.97 percent of the vote, has come up hard against multi-culturalism as it asserted its right to murder people. Islamic State Khorasan (ISIS-K), named after an old term for the region that included parts of Iran, Turkmenistan and Afghanistan, emerged in eastern Afghanistan in late 2014 and quickly established a reputation for extreme brutality. But why attack Russian concert-goers? Apparently ISIS-K "sees Russia as being complicit in activities that regularly oppress Muslims."  Maybe President Putin will be more effective in dealing with ISIS than the West has been. We kind of don't have the heart for it. Hollowed out by liberalism. And apologetic about our past sins of Empire and oppression, and probably the Crusades as well. Unable to separate multi-racial from multi-cultural because we've given up having a unified national culture - it's so, like,  embarrassing. Will Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin be the new Don John of Austria? 

Risen from a doubtful seat and half attainted stall,
The last knight of Europe takes weapons from the wall,
The last and lingering troubadour to whom the bird has sung,
That once went singing southward when all the world was young,
In that enormous silence, tiny and unafraid,
Comes up along a winding road the noise of the Crusade.
Strong gongs groaning as the guns boom far,
Don John of Austria is going to the war.   Lepanto - Chesterton

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The four-volume Call Me Ishmael oeuvre, collected and curated by editor mr verge, is available on Lulu and Amazon.

Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.

Ishmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps :

please register an account first, at lulu.com. This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box. Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.

Link for Hardcover : https://tinyurl.com/je7nddfr

Link for Paperback : https://tinyurl.com/3jurrzux

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

At checkout, try WELCOME15 in the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before postage. If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.
With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.