The Curmudgeon

YOU'LL COME FOR THE CURSES. YOU'LL STAY FOR THE MUDGEONRY.

Monday, January 23, 2017

England Expects

When your Bristol City Bobby is out Beating (is out beating)
And Searching for the Terroristic Tyke (ristic tyke),
There is a Darkling Truth that Bears Repeating (bears repeating):
The Fact that Many Buggers Look Alike (look alike).
If a Wanted Suspect Makes a Vile Proposal (vile proposal)
Or Utilises Insult Most Unclean (most unclean),
You've Fifty Thousand Volts at your Disposal (your disposal)
With Which to Serve your Country and your Queen (and your Queen).
By Neutralising Muscles' Capitation (capitation)
Through Power of your Electronic Toy (tronic toy)
You thus Fulfil the Public Expectation (expectation)
And Show your Blue Coat Wraps a Worthy Boy (worthy boy).
With Constabulary Duties to be done (to be done),
A Policeman's Lot is Quite a Zappy One (zappy one).

T R Bilge

Sunday, January 22, 2017

New DIrections

Doubts have emerged about the ability of the Westminster rogue state to inflict nuclear genocide only on those who deserve it. Last June a Trident test missile was launched from a British submarine off the coast of Florida; it was intended to hit a target off western Africa, presumably in commemoration of the long history of prosperitious freedomisation between the two regions. Instead, the missile flew towards the USA which, had it been armed with a nuclear warhead or several, might have constituted something of a diplomatic indiscretion. Tin-Pot Tessie has refused to say whether she knew about the malfunction when the House of Expenses Claimants debated the renewal of Britain's genitalia of mass destruction the following month. Debates on matters of potential wog-bombing being famously fact-proof, it would probably have made little difference to the outcome; but the apparent disinclination to inform Parliament does shed an interesting light on the Government's attitude to restoring our democratic sovereignty once we have seen off the hateful Euro-wogs. The secrecy is all the more surprising given that the Ministry for Wog-Bombing claimed the test as a success. After all, the submarine did manage not to blow itself up, which arguably gives it the advantage over the rest of the country.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Of Busts and Boobs

Champions of the whining and wheedling party to the Special Relationship (viz. the party that believes a "special relationship" actually exists) will be comforted to know that the Trumpster's first act of international diplomacy has been to restore to the Oval Office the notorious bust of Sir Winston Boris de Pfeffel Churchill. This idol was the subject of much patriotic indignation when Obama supposedly demoted it in order to make room for a bust of a coloured person, with the then London Haystack blathering about the president's "ancestral dislike of the British Empire", although it is not altogether clear whether the implication was supposed to be that Obama was a Kenyan Muslim communist or simply that he was a piccaninny. Since Churchill was thoroughly moneyed, obscenely entitled, a blustering incompetent, a verbose self-promoter and an enthusiastic wog-bomber and substance abuser (though Winston favoured the snifter while Donald favours the snort), there are any number of reasons why the Trumpster might identify with him aside from the fact that his image now adorns Britain's least valuable and most plastic banknote. Given the likely extent of his grasp of British history, to say nothing of the specialness of the relationship, it seems probable that the Trumpster simply wished to restore the Oval Office décor to the way it was during the tenure of the Bush chimpanzee.

Friday, January 20, 2017

For an Inauguration

My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of Trumpery,
Of thee I sing:
Land where the natives died
For pilgrims' humble pride;
With economic slide,
Let freedom ring!

My native country, thee,
Land of the white and free
Sharp-elbow shove.
My heart with rapture thrills
At thy great butcher bills
From yearly nigger-kills
With freedom's love.

Let poison bloat the breeze
As we chop down the trees
To freedom's song;
While we are bold and brash
With our corporate dash,
And rich men take the cash -
What can go wrong?

Our fathers' God, to Thee,
Author of butchery,
To Thee we sing.
Fount of our bravery,
Genocide, slavery,
Greed, guns and knavery,
Republic's King.

Our joyful hearts today
Their grateful tribute pay,
Happy and free,
For all the toils and fears
And all the blood and tears,
Filling the next few years,
Donald, to thee.

Our nation's better men
Will feel so great again
With each new stunt.
Let the flags be unfurled,
Big mouths with pride be curled,
Little folk of the world
Grabbed by the cunt.

Samuel F Grimsnipe

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Varieties of Vergangenheitsbewältigung

Mere hours after a German patriot of the Gove History persuasion had a bit of a whinge about the Holocaust memorial in Berlin, a mischievous migrant has launched an art project to demonstrate that memorials are what you make them. The memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe (those victims who did not have the foresight to be proto-Israelis are rarely mentioned, and Britain's leading liberal newspaper elides them into the Six Million as "other minorities") has been the scene for various cheery activities, which the Israeli-born artist Shahak Shapira has juxtaposed with archive footage from the camps. The plangent patriot had complained, with the usual alt-snowflake self-pity, that "Germans are the only people in the world that have planted a monument of shame in the heart of their capital." That assertion, of course, can be convincingly rebutted by an hour's walk around London, with its memorials to Francis Drake, William Augustus, Herbert Kitchener, Douglas Haig, Arthur Harris, Winston Churchill and doubtless one or two barnstorming strivers from the East India Company. What makes them monuments to pride rather than shame is that Britons have been conditioned to see robbery, slaving and mass murder as regrettable indulgences of the uncouth lesser breeds, rather than as an intrinsic part of our thousand-year island rah-rah.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Britishness Unbound

The legitimate and understandable concerns of the white working class are likely to be assertively reiterated once Tin-Pot Tessie begins the formal process of isolating Europe from the British mainland, according to the chair of the Equality and Human Rights Commission. The Commission has not yet been abolished by the Conservatives, most of whom probably think that EHRC stands for European Human Rights Court, and that it has something or other to do with unelected banana-straightening bureaucrats in Brussels. A spokesbeing for Tin-Pot Tessie stated that, whatever the citizens of nowhere may proclaim, the dead-eyed warden would "certainly not want" a surge in hate crimes, and that "the outcome of the referendum was not a vote to become inward-looking and to stop being an open and tolerant nation", despite its evidently blazing credentials as a wogs-out mandate. Meanwhile Yvette Cooper contributed her own brand of Blue Labour fatuity to the issue by describing hate crime as "un-British". Xenophobia, in other words, is nasty because it's foreign.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

The Shills of God Grind Slow

With the chances of a West European return to mediaeval levels of poverty, ignorance and social stratification looking better by the day, the leaders of the Anglican Communion have called upon the faithful to repent the unfortunate misunderstandings of the Reformation, the legacy of which has been largely to keep Christians from "unity in love". In Standard English, this means that Christians have spent the last five hundred years failing to hate non-Christians properly because they have been too preoccupied with hating each other. The Reformation sprang from Luther's rebellion against the corruption of Rome, and resulted in much persecution of Christians by other Christians, which obviously had never happened before; and there is, of course, no talk of anything so merely moral as repenting the fourth-century devil's pact with the Roman Empire. Still, if the priests of Christendom are to take due advantage of the present turbulence and bring back the good old days of loving their enemies onto a bonfire, some agreement over such burning issues as whether and under what biological endowments they can marry one another might make for a promising start.

Monday, January 16, 2017

Healthy Profits

I'm sure we are all relieved to know that Jeremy C Hunt is unlikely to need the aid of a food bank in the near future, unless he starts managing his own little affairs the way he manages the NHS. Apparently Hunt's failed business ventures include exporting marmalade to Japan, a boondoggle currently undergoing resurrection thanks to the vole-brained Minister for International Werritty. He also tried building children's playgrounds, but presumably couldn't get them quite unsafe enough to satisfy his conscience.

Nevertheless, he is now in line for a fourteen-and-a-half-million-pound windfall from the sale of a company which he co-founded, though not, as many less scrupulous businesspersons might have done, from motives of mere profit. "A lot of people who start their own business do so because they think it’s a good way to make a lot of money, but when you start it becomes simply a matter of survival," Hunt's website sermonised. "It’s a daily struggle, which is why small business people tend to be very down to earth and practical", just like Spadsacker Hunt, who viewed the London Olympics as little more than a chance for an eminently down-to-earth knee-trembler with Rupert Murdoch.

Hunt has proclaimed that he will use his money to campaign for causes he believes in once he finally decides that, like his fellow striver Tristram Hunt, he has little more to gain from pretending to be a mere public servant.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Spreading Civilised Values

Britain's continuing noble efforts to improve human rights in Bahrain have culminated, expectably enough, in the first executions since the year the Bullingdon Club took office. Three men convicted of killing police officers have been shot by firing squad; there are the usual claims of torture and coercion, but authorities have found "no evidence of coercion in the case documents", which certainly ought to settle the matter as far as Her Majesty's Government is concerned. The government in Bahrain is owned by a minority faction and has recently been cracking down on the majority, which will unquestionably evoke what passes for human sympathy in Westminster. Even more importantly, ever since the Arab spring Britain has spent millions training the Bahraini police in the hope of getting democracy to flower in an appropriate and constructive manner; and it also wants to build a naval base there. Accordingly, the Imperial Haystack has reiterated Britain's opposition to capital punishment and "raised the issue" with the Bahraini government, who are doubtless as chastened as can be.

Saturday, January 14, 2017

Putting Off Our Finest Hour

Historiographic indignation levels are set to rise as the Heathen Chinee attempt to rewrite the history of the Battle of Britain by relocating the war's beginning to when the fighting started. A British historian, whose book The Second World War begins with the Japanese invasion of Manchuria in 1931, said that the Heathen Chinee were trying to "reverse the recent tide of historiography" by claiming that the Second World War began with the Japanese invasion of Manchuria in 1931. A Beijing historian commented that the revision was justified in terms of mere accuracy, but that the Communist Party is likely to be trying for a propaganda effect. This is, of course, all quite alien to the far more objective and sensible British method of history, where stout chaps do sterling deeds, where the odd famine or genocide is barely worth mentioning and is in any case compensated by some dashed fine railways, and where the role of the Heathen Chinee in the Second World War is even more minor and obscure than that of the USSR.