Thursday, 16 June 2016

PAPERS

In 1900 everyone in the world bought a newspaper, sometimes more than one. Admittedly, there weren’t as many folk about in those days but there were about one and a half billion people. Allowing for the folk buying several newspapers, we’ll call it two billion. These newspapers didn’t have any pictures, apart from a few cartoons of the Prince of Wales and his ilk. The words were very small and had ‘f’ instead of ‘s’. Still, the plebs lapped them up and the rulers seethed at constantly being portrayed as fat scrounging arseholes. Now, in the 21st century, the world population in seven billion plus and newspaper circulation in the UK, is in the low millions. Of these, 97% of papers sold are The Sun and The Mail. These right wing and reactionary rags sell to the Great Unwashed because they feature: tits; celebrities; football and what bastards immigrants are.
                The average Sun reader will get up in the afternoon; have a fag; watch Jeremy Kyle and then amble down to the newsagents, or ‘Paki Shop’, as they like to term it. They will take their staffie, also known as the Guide Dog for the Thick, so it can have a shit on someone’s lawn and also scare any old person they may meet.  After buying their rag they will tell Mt Singh (who is a Sikh and comes from India) that ‘You fuckin’ Pakis and Polacks are taking our fuckin’ jobs. He will then amble back in time for Celebrity Antiques Roadtrip, allowing adequate time for Ripper to shit in someone’s drive.
                On his sofa, he will read, in words of five letters or less, roughly what he told Mr Singh; look at the football scores (he supports Man Utd even though he lives 300 miles away) and toss the rag onto the floor-bin, with the soiled nappies and the dogshit. He will then request that his light of love bring him some ‘fuckin’ beer’; tell her to shut the fuckin’ kid up and fall asleep, whereupon, Ripper will piss on his leg, thus securing his trip to the dog rescue centre, where he will be put down. Some Sun readers however, read the ‘paper’ while driving their white vans at 90 mph through town, while texting, egged on by a spotty youth on an ‘apprenticeship’.
                Readers of the ‘Quality’ papers such as the Guardian and the Times, don’t actually buy any newspapers. Their readership read the paper online, where the adblocker removes any unwanted distractions. In the case of the Times and the Telegraph (which is the Mail with bigger words), no one reads online either, as you have to pay. What has brought newspaper readership into such decline. One factor is that the papers are full of shite. There is no news in the redtops and biased and or government directed bullshit in the ‘qualities’. Why is this?
                Well, once, long ago the way to the top of the newspaper industry went like this:
                You got a job as an apprentice printer, where you spent your life up to the bollocks in ink, sorting out the mess that had developed when Cedric, the Head Printer had tipped all the lowercase B’s into the D into the same box and getting a crust of bread for your lunch.  Then, through dint of hard work, you progressed to being a printer. Then after you had spent six years at technical college (remember those?) you penned a letter to the Editor who was impressed and set you on as a junior reporter, where you started at the bottom again, writing accounts of how many times Prince Teddy farted at the annual Review of the Navy. Eventually you become Editor and after that owner of the paper, whereupon you spent most of your time getting pissed with Winston Churchill and buying up Somerset.
                These days, to become a newspaper magnate, you either: get your Daddy to buy you a paper; accumulate wads of cash by slightly dodgy means and buy one as a hobby or have one given to you, because it is fucked and  because you once raised the profit of a chain of shops by half a percent, before robbing it blind and stealing the pension fund, people think you can help. You are surrounded by sycophants and then the reason dawns on you – these papers aren’t making any money because NOBODY KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK THEY ARE DOING.
                There are two main reasons for this. One is that a lot of the people employed got their jobs because of what school/college they went to and not because they knew anything. These people are irrelevant, because they don’t actually do anything except get pissed at five hour lunches and screw the secretaries/each other. The main reason however, and this is the pisser, are the vast amounts of people who have arrived at the job, because they have a degree. Not just any degree, but a degree in Media Studies. This is a meaningless and useless qualification (equivalent to the PPE degree that qualifies you to be PM, or at least towel-folder to an MP, while you become PM). It has no relevance to the world of journalism. It is the reason that the papers are so badly misspelled, even in headlines. It is the reason that the papers are full of drivel and it is the reason, when these drones are promoted that the papers are fucked. These people don’t know shit from chocolate; they have no idea how to run a paper, it wasn’t in Journalism 1; nobody told them about stuff like this. So, they just fill the papers with: tits; celebrities; football and what bastards immigrants are, thinking, that this is what the public wants. Add this to the drop in literacy and you have a hiding to nowhere.
               

                

Saturday, 13 September 2014

It's All Around us...

It's all around us; it's everywhere; it pervades and insinuates into our very being. What is it? Is it love? Is it humanity? Is it art? Is it poetry? Is it Family?

No - it is dogshit.

(Apologies now to responsible dog owners who do clean up properly.)

Dogshit is ubiquitous and all-surrounding. It is in the parks; on the paths; on the nature reserves; on the roads; in other peoples gardens and on their shoes.  You walk down into town and step through a mountain of dogshit.

Across from me is a playing field. Every morning and evening, up to thirty people take their dogs on the field and let them shit - WHERE THEIR CHILDREN PLAY. They are quite blatant with it and seemingly don't give a toss. People roll up in cars; let three dogs out that shit on the grass and get back in the car - that's your problem, now, not mine and off they drive back to the shit-free zone they inhabit.

What is done about it? I'll tell you - fuck all. I know we live in Mexborough and that DOncaster Council have forgotten about us and that all the dog wardens are in Wheatley Hills, making it a dogshit free zone for the Councillor's kids, while we have to walk in squalor.

Some people do pick their dogshit up in plastic bags and then, in a place like Adwick RSPB - throw it into the bushes, where it hangs, in winter,  like the Devil's wassail cups. You'd be better off leaving it on the path you morons.

You can't blame the dogs. Dogs don't give a fuck where they do it, it is their nature; it is the owners who are at fault.

All dogs should be chipped and a dog license should be £200 per year. This would rule out the morons responsible for the 150 staffies a day that are put down because the morons can't look after them. It would make the real dog-lovers at a premium and rule out the idiots who don't know how to look after and monitor their dogs.

As you can probably tell: I have just walked in off the field with dogshit all over my shoes. Thank you morons.

Friday, 23 August 2013

DIGITAL - WE ARE LOSING OUR HERITAGE.

The descendents of John Law are sitting in the ruins of Mexborough High Street in 2287.  They are dressed in skins.  They are cooking in an old bin, over a fire.  One of them says: "Good job those folk in the 2000,s supped loads of tea and left us all these nice silver coasters".

I have got approximately 2,000,000 digital photos on my PC (or so it seems).  Some of them are quite nice. They are all imaginary. They only exist as a series of 1's and 0's in cyberspace.  When civilisation collapses, as it will, (some say it has already), all these images, along with everyone else's will vanish and we will be left with a load of plastic crap that no one will be able to fathom.

Same goes for all the music made after 1920 when records came along. Only the folk world is maintaining a record of any musical heritage.  All will be lost in the fires of our descent back into savagery.

Artists preserve some of todays world in paint or other media, so there will be something. Perhaps some sort of hard copy record of the world today should be made NOW before it's too late.


Thursday, 4 July 2013

THIS ENGLAND.

I have just read a book that made me cry.  Not the first time either, as I have read it quite a few times over the years. It is "England Their England" by A G MacDonnell (Macmillan 1933).    I particularly recommend pages 226 - 243.  It is written by a Scotsman in London, not long after WW1, giving a view of the current state of England, from the point of view of a visitor.

It looks at the upper classes and their games; working class people; The League of Nations and more, but the most moving part is the conversation in a country pub, with the old gaffers, some of whose parents had seen Lord Nelson and the like. Lovely quotes such as:  'There is a list of 24 bowmen from the village who went to Agincourt in 1415, eighteen of the same names are on the village war memorial for the Great War'.  Thaey lament the changing state of the country, the change of sos follwing fathers into such trades as thatching, leaving to be mechanics etc.

Another telling quote: " But can you tell me sir, what national honour ever did for me?  I worked the land all my life and the least I earned was 4 and 6 a week and the most 29 shillings.  In 1914 a man came down and gave a speech about 'National Honour', Mind you Sir I was getting 24 shillings a week for 72 hours, but i had to give three sons and eight grandsons to fight for the National honour. Eleven of them, three were killed and two lost legs and what good did that do to them or me, or Mr Davis, or Mr Darley here. We can't afford our beer or our tobacco and the grandsons that weren't killed can't get work."

There is an equally telling piece about the local landowner worrying about his tenants and others about distinct regionalism and accent,  fading away.

What would Cameron, the narrator, say of today's homogenised blend of Briton, where it is almost illegal to be English and the kids talk in a mid-Atlantic argot, punctuated by squeals and shouts of AWESOME from the girls and monosyllabic grunting from the boys.  A land where free speech is more or less forbidden and holding an opinion that is not blessed by the PC Nazis is tantamount to a crime?

Nostalgia for a lost past is a commonplace facet of all society. The lost past involved ricketts and TB; workhouses and illiteracy. It gave us Fascism and world wars. It gave us slavery and discrimination, not only of race, but class as well.  All societies change, but has ours changed for the better?  In some ways: healthcare; technology (like it or not); integration, but hatred is something that brings England into disrepute. The fairness and tolerance of the Englishman is lauded in the book, but I look around and I see the mindless hatred of the Muslim for the Christian and the hatred of the Fascist EDL and BNP for Islam and I despair for our future.

Tuesday, 2 July 2013

WHO TO VOTE FOR???

I have voted Labour all my life. I am from a mining background in the Labour heartland of South Yorkshire. The Labour party that brought us the NHS, the jewel in the UK's crown,  and the feeling that even Labour politicians, were in touch with the working class however, has gone. They are indistinguishable from the Tories and the LapDogs.
What we have is a bunch of characterless political beasts. whose CV is mainly full of towels folded and arses licked.  Milliband is a buffoon, with no personality, who was made leader to keep his somewhat more charismatic brother out: no personalities in New Labour thank you, may remind us of the conman Blair.  Balls is eponymous. The odious Harperson and the PC brigade have done much to make Labour a laughingstock in the eyes of the voters.
But; who to vote for?
The Tories, who have shown themselves to be in complete harness to their corporate paymasters and have blatantly favoured the rich at the expense of the poor and needy?  The LapDogs, finished as a political force, after selling themselves and their ideals for a sniff of ersatz power? The joke UKIP?

When will the UK see politicians with ideals and a sense of purpose and fair play for ALL?
As Rich Hall said in his Texas programme the other night: 'Politics, from the greek word 'poli' - many and 'ticks', blood-sucking leeches...

Friday, 28 June 2013

HASH BROWNS.

I have just seen a comment on Facebook concerning the traditional 'Full English' breakfast, that asked: 'where are the hash browns?'

Hash browns?  Hash fucking browns?  How long have hash browns been part of the English breakfast?  I'll tell you how long...

Hash browns are part of the trend that makes every young person in the UK think they were born in fucking Springfield; say 'AWESOME' every ten seconds and squeal while tottering about in Keds.

It is why the spell-checker on British NATIONAL newspapers is set to American and asks you if you mean 'realize' when you type realise.

It is why people refer to their butt instead of their arse and why we have Proms FFS!!!! Proms... the kids look nice, but the expense and the overriding sense of smugness is direct from the Great Satan.

As for Trick or Fucking Treating - AAAAAAARRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!

It is people giving you the fucking finger instead  of flagging you off. Bastards.

It is why MTV and its ilk have transformed our kids into clones of Sabrina the Fucking Teenage Witch.

It is why they watch films like Tangled; Epic and all the others, that feature the same young, American teen, with exactly the same persona and annoying voices that our kids emulate.


Get this straight:  hash browns are no more part of an English breakfast than Bart Fucking Simpson goes to Mexborough Comp (although there are quite a few of the little twats that try to be like him!!!!)


Monday, 24 June 2013

BLOODY SCHOOLS

Schools and teachers get a terrible press. I was a teacher and am glad to be out of it. The kids have taken over the asylum.  There is no punishment for anything; no one can win, because that means that some feckless little toerag might lose.  Most of the money schools get goes on making excuses for the disruptive; the stupid; the ignorant and the just plain thick... oh, sorry - the government says there are no thick kids, just bad teachers. Well fuck me, but at my school there are loads of the stupid little tossers. This is the same government that insists that every child shall be above average!

The parents are just as bad. They either don't give a fuck, or are convinced that their little angel couldn't possibly have done anything wronG and anyway the teachers are picking on him. NO THEY ARE NOT; HE/SHE IS A STUPID LITTLE PILLOCK WITH A BAD ATTITUDE.  Oh, but he/she has dyslexia/ADHD. NO THEY DON'T BECAUSE IN MOST CASES THESE ARE JUST A CRUTCH FOR PARENTS OR ARE IAGNOSED SO THE FECKLESS FUCKERS CAN GET MORE BENEFITS.

Don't get me wrong, most kids at school are nice and trying to do their best, but these disruptive little arseholes are ruining everyone else's chances and the system is allowing it, nay, encouraging it!