30 April 2010
Grannie goldfish seller is freed on appeal
Time was when you won goldfish at the local fair, but now thanks to Nu-Labour nobody under 16 can buy the damned things. Councils employ any number of jobsworths who run sting operations costing over £20,000 to catch pet shops who break the laws. As a result of one of those operations a 67 year old great-grandmother ended up being tagged, an order later reversed by the court of appeal.
People, getting this regime out of office is just a good in itself. You will feel so much happier on Thursday when you have cast your vote for literally any other party than Nu-Labour.
29 April 2010
Gillian Duffy's first reaction as Bigotgate breaks
Mrs Gillian Duffy, pensioner, widow and lifelong Labour voter reacts in disgust when told what Gordon Brown really thinks of her. This is the image that will destroy Nu-Labour once and for all.
Bigotgate looks set to run and run
Gordon Brown's contemptuous dismissal of Rochdale widow Gillian Duffy as "a bigoted woman" looks set to dominate the rest of the week, especially now that it has its own shorthand codename: Bigotgate.
The bulk of the British working class who are probably sick and tired of being contemptuously dismissed by the party that our grandfathers set up can take heart from the fact that bigot stands for Brown is going on Thursday. On the other hand maybe the party could send Peter Madelson to dance with the old girl? You never know, she might be a faghag. . .
As meltdown looms, that really is the only remaining option.
Are Lancaster BNP really so stupid?
Debra Kent is the BNP candidate for Lancaster and Fleetwood who was banned by a local church from attending a hustings held on the church's property. Your friendly old Exile got in touch with Steve Greenhalgh, the party's North-West press spokesman to see if we could be put in touch with Debra Kent to get her reaction to all this.
After first telling us that the BNP didn't speak to Blogspot blogs, Steve Greenhalgh then said that all candidates' statements were being made through him. I replied that candidates normally speak for themselves, and when could I speak to Mrs Kent directly? Perhaps one evening when she was out canvassing, perhaps? Steve Greenhalgh wouldn't give out that information, but he did promise that someone would knock on my door and give me a statement, maybe.
Quite what the BNP are playing at here is hard to fathom. They have a perfect opportunity to present themselves as the victims of a conspiracy to deny them their democratic rights and they are not taking it. Very well, I will not vote for the BNP next week, but if I can get to speak to the candidate I will at least report her words fairly.
The party's cack-handed failure in this regard means that the banning is ceasing to be the story and the BNP's stupidity in handling it has become the narrative. All your fault, BNP.
28 April 2010
How Gillian Duffy showed up Labour's true face
Today's exchange between Prime Minister Gordon Brown, and a Mrs Gillian Duffy, provided the unscripted moment when the loathing that Nu-Labour has for the working class could no longer be concealed:
Gordon Brown was on a walkabout in Rochdale when he bumped into Mrs Duffy, who took him to task over the economy, education and immigration. Brown actually emerged from the exchange looking rather well, and Mrs Duffy told reporters that she would vote Labour, but then Brown got in his car and could no longer contain his loathing for the British working class:
Actually Mrs Duffy had hardly mentioned immigration, but that is obviously what Brown was latching onto when he made his unguarded "bigoted woman" remark. To be fair he was only articulating what all the metropolitan political class think of us, the ordinary working people of this country, but Brown was the one caught letting his true feelings show in public.
The Nu-Labour smear machine has already gone into action against Gillian Duffy, as this Twitter page shows, but they cannot avoid the truth: that an ordinary voter asked Gordon Brown some questions and was damned as a bigot for her pains.
Is there anyone left who still plans to vote for these two-legged middle class cockroaches? These people took over our party and made it theirs. Now we shall sit back and watch it vanish down the toilet.
Tories seem to be losing the plot with this poster
Of all the idiotic election slogans this is probably the most idiotic of all. Nobody who signs on the social ever says that they are refusing work and both they and the penpushers who sit opposite asking daft question are engaged in a carefully choreographed bit of theatre. Questions are asked and answers given but everyone knows that there aren't actually jobs out there for the grandchildren of the people who Thatcher made redundant thirty years ago to do.
27 April 2010
Nick Clegg really is pussy whipped
It is nice to see the press catching up with your friendly old Exile in questioning Nick Clegg's ability to run a country when he can't even run his family. The latest is Jan Moir over at the Daily Mail who asks the quite reasonable question as to why atheist Nick gave up some valuable campaigning time to go and rattle some rosary beads at a Papist church? The satirical TV programme Have I Got News For You also pointed out that the three Clegg sons all have Spanish names, and speculated as to the reason behind that. It really does appear as if a consensus is emerging around here that Nick Clegg is a pussy whipped cur who does as he was told by his wife.
For the record, Old Mother Exile has never invited me to get out of bed on a Sunday morning to go anywhere as she knows what the answer would be from my hungover self. The sons of the union both have solid English names.
26 April 2010
The murder of Blair Peach
Who killed Blair Peach? The Daily Telegraph's question is redundant because is was the police, of course, back in 1979 just before Maggot Thatcher came to power. One of six suspects killed him, probably with some kind of authorised weapon such as a leaded cosh. Needless to say nobody was ever charged and the matter was allowed to drop. Now, a carefully redacted version of the police's own case file is about to be released, redacted so that nobody can use it to go after the killer.
Just think for a moment what would have happened if there were six suspects to the killing of a copper. The notion that the filth would not have been able to decide which of the half dozen suspects to prosecute is risible. However, the police can pretty much do as they please because they are the bootboys of capitalism and their job is to ensure that the system continues. In return they get to kill the odd schoolteacher such as Blair Peach or newspaper sellers like Ian Thomlinson. The reader can imagine them sitting around with their mates afterwards, exchanging smiles of glee as they recount the tale over and over again.
Then again, sometimes it goes wrong. Your friendly old Exile can remember the run up to the independence of Algeria and how a policeman in the colony commented quietly to a BBC news team that he hoped that there would not be any reprisals.
He was living in a fantasy world and probably got the chop as soon as independence came. Let us hope that the day will not be too far in the future when our own home grown bum sucking scabs face a similar fate.
24 April 2010
Weekending: a deep throat lesson
We at Team Exile say unequivocally that this is our kind of girl.
23 April 2010
Are the Liberals about to be reborn?
Exactly a century ago there were two general elections, one in January and the other in December. Neither returned a government with a working majority and both Liberal and Conservative had just over 270 seats each. The Liberals managed to govern thanks to the forty or so Labour members who were returned each time, but neither of the two main parties were in any ideological position to deal with the three main issues that dominated politics of the day; namely a working class that was starting to make its presence felt, women's enfranchisement and the Irish Question. Since the parties were unequipped to carry out their tasks of aggregating political interests it was only right and proper that one of them, the Liberals, would collapse under the weight of it all and allow the Labour Party to come through the gap and take up the role of aggregating anti-Tory votes.
Could the same thing be about to happen in 2010? The parties are not representing the political issues of the day such as immigration, the European Union and management of the economy - to say nothing of a string of wars that hardly anyone wanted in the first place. None of the parties is really answering the people's questions, especially over the related matters of immigration and economic recovery, but it must be admitted that the Liberals are moving ahead of the pack, an ironic circumstance given the events of 1910.
Is it possible that the Liberals, having been first almost destroyed by their failure to represent the new politics of the early twentieth century, are about to be reborn thanks to the new politics of the early twenty-first?
22 April 2010
Nick Clegg for PM? You are having a laugh!
Have you ever heard of Miriam Gonzalez Durantez? If not, then you should know that she is the wife of Nick Clegg, the leader of the Liberal-Democratic Party, and also the reason why you should not vote for him.
How surnames work in Spain, which is where Mrs Clegg hails from, is fairly simple - they work just like the parentage of a horse, in fact. Using the filly Miriam as an example, her surnames let us know that she is by Gonzalez, out of Durantez. When she married Clegg she should have started calling herself Sra. Miriam Gonzalez de Clegg, thus denoting that she is the daughter of one man and the wife of the other. Her failure to do that is taken by any Spanish speaker as meaning that her father is more important to her than her husband. Her father is don Chingon in her eyes, whereas little Nick is little more than un putocito. The Hispanic world understands and uses symbolism far more than we do, something which Nick Clegg who speaks the language will understand only too well. The fact that he allows his wife to get away with treating him with such utter contempt suggests to your friendly old Exile that he is not the one who wears the trousers in that household.
Put simply, how can Nick Clegg be trusted to control a country when he cannot even keep his wife in order?
Shall we vote for the BNP?
There are two fairly good reasons to vote for the British National Party. In Lancaster & Fleetwood they are running the very personable Debra Kent, a thirty year old mother and local resident. It is nice to see local people getting involved with their communities. Debra is a community activist who sits as a school governess, and who now wants to make the transition to the national stage. At least she is not an identikit political hack who has never had a real job in her life.
Secondly, a vote for the BNP would be a marvellous two-fingered gesture of contempt to all the scum who have done so well out of the past thirty-odd years. The time was when the middle class knew fear, and their arses did clench every time a trades union stamped down a city's streets, but those days are gone. A vote for the BNP would help to loosen an awful lot of bowels in a most entertaining way. Forget the politics - let's hear it for the atavistic desire to see people that we despise shit their loads.
So why will your friendly old Exile be voting for the UKIP? At the end of the day, the BNP is still the party of skinheads who worship Odin and who fantasise about blood and soil nationalism. There has always been an element within the far-right that is made up of normal, decent people like Debra Kent, or the men that I used to battle with before she was even born. They took one path and I took the other, but we always understood and respected one another. The same cannot be said of knuckle-dragging fucktards like Lee John Barnes and his dreams of Odinism, or Onanism, or something. Who in his right mind would want to be associated with types like that?
Maybe one day our side will offload the mongish Trots, and Debra and her pals will deal with their headbangers, and then we can sit down together and decide the future of our country. That day has not yet arrived and until it does the thought of voting for the BNP leaves me feeling in need of a bath.
21 April 2010
Oxford sex & condom use back in the day
As we end this short series, let's be honest: our generation really had made, didn't we? Let's take condoms as an example. Using one is like having a bath with your socks on, you can do it, but you are not likely to enjoy the experience very much. Reading today's sex bloggers your friendly old Exile is amazed to discover that condom use is pretty universal but that was certainly not the case back in the Oxford day.
AIDS was something that normal people didn't worry about, and that was why we called it Arse Injected Death Syndrome. We looked upon it as Mother Nature's little way of reminding the poofs what their arseholes were for. The main venereal diseases were cured at the clap clinics that were to be found in every town and city. Not that I ever met anyone who used those services, but they did exist and just about every public toilet had a notice giving details of the nearest one.
More importantly, ours was the generation that came to sexual maturity taking the pill for granted. Men did not ask women in those days if they were on the pill as just about every woman took her little tablet every day even if she didn't have a lover. Come to think of it, this writer can only remember one woman who told him that she was not on the pill, and she then went into a long explanation as to why she had temporarily stopped taking it. It might be that women in those days had a better understanding of men and knew damn well that we would tell them anything if it meant that we could get them on their backs, so they took adequate precautions.
Say what you like, folks, but we really formed a part of the blessed generation.
20 April 2010
The Exile will vote for UKIP
A leaflet plopped through the letterbox yesterday morning from a certain Fred McGlade who is standing for the United Kingdom Independence Party in Lancaster & Fleetwood. This information means that I have a party that I can vote for next month if only I can register myself in this constituency.
Registration closes today so I have to get myself off to the town hall to fill in the form. Amazingly enough I do not have to produce any document to prove my nationality, according to Gareth, the young fellow that I spoke to on the 'phone.
To make matters even more risible, people from the EU can only vote next month in the local elections, but commonwealth nationals who are settled in the UK can vote in both. However, since nobody seems to check anything, it is possible that a German could claim to be British and thus vote in both, if he was so minded.
19 April 2010
Blog Exclusive: Peter Luff & a "leaky bum"
Peter Luff is the Tory MP for Mid-Worcestershire was part of the gang caught up in the expenses scandal, and in his case the claims included ten sets of bed linen. The press got onto this and asked him to justify the claims which he refused to do. Tory Central Office then told Luff that if he didn't give an answer the press would most likely make something up so what was the deal with all those sheets?
"I have a leaky bum," replied this people's tribune.
Electioneering in Lancaster
In the 1980s it seemed that every house in my constituency had a Labour poster in its window, but in the Lancaster of 2010 I haven't seen a single one. The local party here are talking about putting together canvass teams at weekends, but in my day we left the people alone at weekends and hit the houses every single night from Monday to Friday, with every ward turning out at least a dozen people every time. Of course we had Thatcher to hate in those days, but we also had something more. We had the feeling that voting Labour would make a difference because Labour would reverse the Tory policies and we would take our revenge against those who had given us such grief.
Today nobody in the Labour Party can even think of that so the party's dwindling band of activists are forced to argue that the Tories will be worse than Labour. "Vote Labour because the other lot will be marginally worse" is not a slogan that gets this writer's gonads jangling, and that is probably one of the reasons why Labour hasn't managed to get any canvassing done, at least in Lancaster, up to now.
15 April 2010
Weekending: how to handle a woman
Would we not all, gentlemen, in a very real sense, like to have a house thus equipped?
14 April 2010
Allegra Mostyn-Owen, Boris Johnson & Me
I had never heard of Allegra Mostyn-Owen until someone pointed out the photo of her on the cover of Tatler that was taken the year before she went up to Oxford. Looking into those bedroom eyes I decided to chance my arm and I sent her a message via the university post. Getting no reply I duly lost interest, there being plenty of other knob-polishers around 1980s Oxford. Sorry, Allegra, but you missed your chance, thought the bloke who would go on to become your friendly old Exile.
It came as no surprise when I learned that Boris Johnson had snaffled her, but I was amazed when the couple married in 1987. I always thought of Boris as a genial shagging man who hopped from one bed to another and I found it hard to believe that he was settling down. Obviously as it turned out he wasn't doing anything of the sort and the marriage didn't last, but by then I had left the UK and I didn't find out about the breakup until many years later.
Now it emerges that Allegra has married a Pakistani man 22 years her junior and has claimed that she would not object if he took another wife to have children by.
I have no idea what is going on. Allegra was the great beauty of her day at Oxford, she is from a fabulously wealthy family and had the world at her feet. It is incomprehensible to me that she is throwing it all away to live with some inbred who will probably dump her eventually when he ships over a cousin from Pakistan to marry.
Allegra, you really should have answered my pigeon post letter all those years ago.
13 April 2010
Home. . . What a wonderful word that is. I am home for the first time in almost two decades. I have been in England since the end of December, but only in Northern England for three days. This is home, this is where I belong, where my people have lived for generations.
The old friend that I am staying with has lent me a car. Yesterday we spend most of the afternoon getting it running and found that the battery was dead as a doornail. A man that we did not know offered to help us get the old battery out, and then he lent me his Halford mechanic's card, thus saving us £37.00 on the retail price of a new battery. When we got back with the purchase, a bloke from across the street let me know that we had forgotten to close a window on the other car, but not to worry as he had kept an eye on things for us.
This is home. This is the way it is and this is what I missed.
12 April 2010
Death of Polish President
The president of Poland, one Lech Kaczynski, has died when his aircraft crashed during a state visit to Russia. Get ready for the conspiracy theorists who even as I write are hard at work in the bars of Warsaw seeking someone to blame. Actually, the reason why this bloke with a name that hardly anyone can pronounce is dead is that he used a crappy Russian jet as his personal transport. This is quite common in third world countries as the aircraft can usually be kept flying by Boris going along and hitting things with a spanner. Occasionally Boris hits the wrong part and the plane falls out of the sky. It happened with Samora Machel of Mozambique, and now the same thing has happened to the Pole. The world goes on turning because nobody really cares very much about either Mozambique or Poland.
09 April 2010
Weekending: best way to open a beer
Now this is my kind of girl!
I am off on my travels again as I need to change address once more. I hope to be settled in on the new settee next week, but until then blogging may be on the light side.
08 April 2010
Local government corruption: another reason to stuff Labour
As we head into the election now officially called for the 6th May, there so many good reasons why New Labour needs to be done over that it is difficult to pick any particular one out. That said, here's a reason that I hadn't heard before:
Craig Murray reports that the regime has now thoroughly corrupted local government and politicised the office of chief executive. Remember that those office holders are usually the election returning officers, so this coming ballot is probably going to be pretty filthy.
In Blackburn, one Bhushra Irfan has decided to run as an independent and placed a hoarding in her garden to announce this fact. Within three hours a gang of council workmen had arrived to pull it down, claiming a breach of the planning regulations. However, as Craig point out, election materials such as this are protected by electoral law, but we are talking about Blackburn here, and the place makes Tammany Hall look clean.
07 April 2010
A hand shandy on the Turl
There was really only one reason for me to be in Turl Street at 2.00am and that was hunger. In today's Oxford the sleek catering vans are everywhere, but that was not the case a generation ago. Then you had to go and hunt for one of Foley's vans and buy a deathburger and coke, with botulism as an added bonus. There was usually a van along the High Street and I was making my way home via the Turl with burger in hand when I met the girl.
She was wearing a full length gown and was walking bare foot with her shoes in one hand. She waved as if she knew me and announced that she was hungry, so I leaned against the barber's shop doorway and invited her to take a bite out of the burger.
She did more than that, grabbing the whole thing and proceeded to wolf it down. I gave her a very firm smack to the rump which made her jump, but instead of returning my supper she just ruefully rubbed her bottom and said again how hungry she was. I noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra, so on impulse I tweaked one of her nipples to make it hard, which made her pout and cast her eyes downward, which is always a good sign
"You should pay for your supper," I told her, whereupon without further ado madam unzipped my trousers with her free hand and proceeded to give me a hand shandy in the middle of Turl Street. Could anyone make this up? I think not - there I was receiving a hand job from a girl who had my cock in one hand and was eating my burger with the other. Needless to say I shot my load in pretty short order.
We both then made our way to the High Street as I wanted to get another burger and that was madam's direction, anyway. I stopped at the deathburger van intending to buy her another one of Mr. Foley's mouthwatering delights but she just carried on walking down the street, shoes still in her hands.
She vanished in the direction of St. Hilda's College so that was probably her final destination. Those Hildabeests, they really were gems, believe you me.
06 April 2010
What is Canterbury playing at?
Just a thought, but could someone please explain why Archbishop Rowan Williams is playing silly buggers with the Papists? He made a good start by pointing out that the scandals that have hit the Roman Church have caused the body to lose all credibility in Ireland. However, and inexplicably, he then backtracked and basically apologised for telling the truth, leaving Papist writers to have a field day.
The point is that as far as the Anglicans are concerned the Bishop of Rome is a Churchman who, admittedly, has no power in England. As far as the Bishop and all his underlings are concerned, the Archbishop of Canterbury is a bloke in a frilly frock. It is for that reason that the Papists set up the Ordinariate last year, to seduce Anglicans from their loyalty to Canterbury and woo them to Rome. The Papists would not have done that had they regarded Anglicanism as a legitimate body - but they don't.
Now that the Papes are being hit from all sides in Ireland, the time is ripe to pay them back in their own coin. The Anglican Church should be funnelling money to it's sister body the Church of Ireland on the principle that payback is a bitch.
No Pope of Rome,
No incense to get in my eyes,
No nuns and no priests,
No rosary beads,
Every day is the 12th of July.
05 April 2010
Nick Griffin rides out failed attempt at coup in BNP
Mark Collett has been dismissed from his post as the British National Party's publicity chief. The story is that he tried to lead a coup against Nick Griffin, the party's leader. Certainly the party has been putting that version of events out, but The Exile can exclusively reveal that the leader of the failed putsch was actually Eddy Butler, the national election organiser, who has been sacked along with Collett.
A very senior BNP figure has spoken to The Exile. His version of events is that Collett is little more than a "long streak of piss" and not to be taken seriously. He only joined the coup plot when the party began to question the amounts of money that was being wasting due to his stupidity. For instance the Euro election leaflets that had to be pulped because Collett had forgotten to put the name and address of the publisher on them.
Butler began to plot against Griffin about three months ago, largely because he objected to the role that Jim Dowson plays as a consultant to the party. Dowson has been responsible for some cost-cutting exercises which have not gone down very well amongst the senior activists, but the main bone of contention for Butler is the amount of money that the BNP is spending in Ulster, which is where Dowson is based. To be fair to Dowson, he is saving the party a lot of money and is entitled to be paid for his labours. However as far as Butler was concerned, that was slush that should have stayed within the traditional BNP family as it were. This is where Collett comes into the picture because the Dowson reforms involve outsourcing as much work as possible. Collett may have been the publicity officer, but he handled the actual printing, and stood to lose a lot of money from those reforms.
Our source reports that Griffin is now totally in control of the party, but more blood-letting is expected. Butler and Collett know where "a lot of the bodies are buried" and can be expected to leak as much damaging information about individuals as they can. Our source concluded that such people will be expected "to walk the plank" with as much dignity as they can muster for the benefit of the party.
How much will this effect the BNP's chances at the election? Our source has it that the matter is not an issue for the party's rank and file and if that turns out to be true then the matter should blow over fairly quickly.
01 April 2010
Weekending: losing your head
Trust me - you will laugh your heads off at this one.
The hits are way down this week as people slope off early for Easter. I am doing the same by taking a break from the blog which will be back on Tuesday, all being well!