England's England

Say it with penis

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 00:05:00 +0000

Erm. Ok, I’m not looking, ok? But what exactly is it that I should be saying with penis?

Erm. Oh, yeah. Snort Snort. Chortle Chortle. Mine was far too large to fit in this picture, honest. F’narr F’narr.

"Merseyside fire crews were attacked on 7 different occasions as they responded to calls on Bonfire..."

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 00:05:00 +0000

“

Merseyside fire crews were attacked on 7 different occasions as they responded to calls on Bonfire night, with about 30 yobs throwing bricks at them in Netherton, and slightly less in Kirkby and Whiston. I suspect the picture is similar in other areas of the UK.

Isn’t it time that Fire, Police and Ambulance crew were armed with AK47s and allowed to shoot dead these little bastards?

”

- Christopher England just asked that!

This is brilliant. Apparently it’s still a work in...

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 00:05:00 +0000

This is brilliant. Apparently it’s still a work in progress. Erm, like the Web?

I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with this lady.

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 00:05:00 +0000

I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with this lady.

Weird Poisoned People

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 00:05:00 +0000

Why are some people weird? It’s usually purely down to the poisons they either unknowingly or knowingly ingest.

Years and years ago when people didn’t know about such dangers, lord knows what stuff was in their food and water. Even as late as the last century people were going mad from lead poisoning because of the lead pipes used to deliver water. Harping back hundreds and hundreds of years, yes people would get fevers and die from having eaten contaminated foods, without the slightest idea how or why the food was contaminated. Other wouldn’t get fevers, but would just go ‘weird’.

Indeed, whole religious instructions like to not eat pork are based on the fact that people had no ideas about how to check the meat or know if it was safe or not. So, rather than have people die, religious leaders would dream up some supposed reason why their particular brand of god had decreed items to be forbidden food (or ‘dirty’).

Anyway, it is not illogical to assume that quite a few people were ‘poisoned’ across the centuries such that they became loony. These people would then act oddly and be written off as eccentric, or would rule their household or even their land with their weirdness all induced by the poisons they had unknowingly ingested, causing them brain damage. Their weirdness would affect the others in their charge who had to just accept it.

More recently, for reasons that have always escaped me, we moved into an era obsessed with getting away from reality and deliberately ingesting poisons in order to achieve this state. For a long time it was just alcohol, but pretty soon it was all manner of things, getting more and more refined until we reached the era of LSD, Ecstasy and Cocaine. Now, these are serious mind-altering poisons. And we are discovering that they do very long term damage to people. Robbie Williams has to take prescribed drugs for the rest of his life to combat the long term effects of ‘e’ burning his brain out. For years, I’ve always found extensive cannabis smokers to be oddly paranoid and usually depressive. Surprise surprise after many years of research they prove this is in fact the long term side effect. I guess it’s no different to it taking a very long time to discover and confirm that tobacco actually kills you.

The worst thing at the moment is cocaine, which is probably the most used poison of choice behind alcohol. Yeah, the person feels great and like they rule the world with their enhanced confidence, and they stand around with other coke heads gabbling at 200 words a minute, none capable of listening, just talking at each other about themselves, but for every minute that they are high, they face an hour of terrible come downs. This is when they are moody, extremely paranoid, and ‘weird’. This is when they beat their children and have weirdly odd demands and screaming fits for no logical reason, and then can’t cope without subjecting themselves to more poison. Alcoholics are similar.

What I do find strange is that as we have slowly managed to identify and stop the poisons our forefathers were unaware of and accidentally ingesting, we seem to have equally slowly started to deliberately use more and more poisons for what we consider to be recreational purposes.

The net result is the same, we are still producing a high proportion of weird people, weird because their brains are completely messed up by the recreational use of poisons, but nonetheless, weird. Isn’t it about time we rounded these people up and did something with them to protect normal folk, especially the children?

"Looking at me, Family Guy fans see Peter Griffin. They don’t realise I’m actually Brian trapped in..."

Tue, 03 Nov 2009 00:05:00 +0000

“Looking at me, Family Guy fans see Peter Griffin. They don’t realise I’m actually Brian trapped in the wrong damn body.”

- Christopher England just sighed that!

I highlighted a previous video from this guy some months ago. I...

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 00:05:00 +0000

I highlighted a previous video from this guy some months ago. I think this video actually came before the one I previously highlighted, but it’s a brilliant set of 10 questions every educated Christian should answer about their mental illness.

What Secret Millionaire, eh?

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 00:05:00 +0000

The Secret Millionaire is a show on TV. The idea is simple. Take one millionaire. Make him/her travel hundreds of kilometres from home. Make him/her live in a tiny tatty house for a week and volunteer with various local charities like he’s not a millionaire. He/she secretly decides who to then spring a load of his/her own personal cash on to. He/she writes out cheques comes clean about who they really are and hands them over. Tears of happiness. Roll credits.

The thing I don’t get, right, is that absolutely every episode is exactly the same.

The main number one impossible thing is that the supposed not-a-millionaire turns up at a charity with a full-on film crew. I mean, after all these years how many people involved in running charities really haven’t heard of the Secret Millionaire programme? I mean, if I was involved in a charity and a film crew and a not-a-millionaire turned up and filmed the first thing I’d be thinking is “OMG, is that really a Secret Millionaire??? Am I going to get loads of dosh???”.

Yet, none of these charities ever do suspect, and they all get so surprised and emotional when the cheques get handed over!

Something doesn’t smell right about this.

Also, why is it always such an emotional journey for the millionaires themselves, with every single one of them every single time having a near emotional breakdown as something to do with one of the charities they oh so accidentally discovered somehow touches home about their past or previous experiences?

Something doesn’t smell right about this either.

There was one where they planted the millionaire in a house in Anfield (a part of Liverpool, the home of Liverpudlians). It made me laugh ‘cos he was a big butch ex-army man, done time in the Falklands, bla bla bla, but as soon as the scallies started their regular evening entertainment of setting fire to nearby houses, he panicked. Then when the scallies started bricking the car the production team were using, they all legged it and spent the rest of the week staying in a nice hotel.

The interesting thing about that one, which seems to be similar to most Secret Millionaire programmes was that they didn’t actually get involved in any charities based in Anfield. Not even in Liverpool. But they went miles away to parts of Sefton, a completely different Borough, and much wealthier area. Yet it’s all presented as if it’s just up the road from the scary house they have to live in. Same as when they had a guy in a scary house in Warrington. He’s then fiddling with charities in St Helen’s or on the Wirral, none in Warrington itself.

It’s getting far too silly!

Photo

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0000

I don’t know whether to be excited or not about the...

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0000

I don’t know whether to be excited or not about the oncoming final part of the Zeitgeist Movie. It’s about the revolution. That’s what we as ordinary humans have yet to do instead of being manipulated by ‘them’.

The original movie was interesting and well put together though. If you’ve got 2 hours to spare it’s here at http://www.zeitgeistmovie.com/ and has an amazing number of inaccuracies within it, yet is a fascinating work covering how religion is bogus, politicians are bogus, the whole 9/11 thing is bogus, and how bogus the central banks are. It leaves us with news that eventually we’ll all be tagged by means of a ‘chip’, and we’ll be watched and controlled.

But, I’m guessing the next part tells how we can set ourselves free.

….or maybe how we can swap one set of manipulative leaders for another, eh?

Why aren't there any revolutionary pirate radio stations?

Thu, 29 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0000

Broadcasting radio without a licence can be fun, although of course you shouldn’t try this at home. As long as technically your transmissions are not causing anybody any grief, as in, you aren’t causing maydays from aircraft to go unheard or the little old lady next door to not be able to watch Corrie, then what’s the problem? Nothing. But it is against the law and you can be very heavily fined or go to prison for far longer than if you’d decided to systematically torture and kill a child.

Today there remain up to a hundred radio pirates around the UK, and in all cases they are using their transmitters for the subversive purpose of, erm, playing music.

Hmmm. Now, this is the bit I don’t really get. Ok, for those currently producing the next big thing, pirate radio is the only way to get said next big thing to the people, assuming that radio is still the method of delivery to the masses (There’s an argument that it no longer is). Legal radio, with the possible exception of the BBC’s digital only station 1Xtra, refuses to ‘break’ the new and unsafe. Definitely this is the case with the commercial sector. The next big thing has to already be the now big thing before commercial radio will touch it. The only exception of course being anything produced via one of Simon Cowell’s hour long pop promotional TV commercials like the X Factor.

Most of today’s pirate radio is in the hands of da yoof, and those most likely to be producing the next best thing. However, excitingly, there are a tiny handful of old folk who have being playing at piracy for decades. What wise and alternative radio can we expect from these fellows (it’s always men, never women) in their 40s and 50s? Will they use their hijacking of the airwaves to bring down the Government or to say “We’re mad as hell and we’re not going to take this any more!” as they orchestrate the revolution?

Nope, damn it. They’ll play nice safe pop and rock records from over 30 years ago. The same safe records that the commercial sector plays. Some of these granddad pirates will even go through all the expense and danger of putting on a transmitter in order to play recordings of entire radio broadcasts made over 30 years ago.

They’ll do this not because it’s a rousing speech or landmark revelation that was broadcast 30 years ago and we need it to re-educate the population or give them hope, but because it’s something safe and bland and represents some imagined safe and bland childhood they think they may have had. Bizarrely, all that the recording contains is a safe radio station of the day playing safe records that were current when the tape was recorded but are now 30 years old and even safer. Surely this is the behaviour of people with a mental condition you may suggest.

Who knows. It’s certainly not radical behaviour. It is the behaviour of old and pointless pirates. It is a waste of the potential power to empower that truly free radio should have.

Look. We have a confused country limping its way into becoming a third world nation. We have fearful futures with the undead like Tony Blair and his New World Order about to take control of us from a central command centre in Europe. We have global warming or destruction or whatever else we can find to be paranoid about. We have whole sectors of the population feeling disenfranchised, frightened, troubled, angry and suspicious of each other and everything around them. We want to be free. We are fed up with being so overcrowded, so alienated, so used and so abused. We want to hear people who sympathise with us being as mad as hell and not wanting to take it any more.

So what do the pirate radio stations run by the old people do? They put their fingers in their ears and play Devil Gate Drive by Suzi Quatro. Jeez.

We have racial disharmony, homophobic attacks, anger, guns, drugs out of control, confusion and fear. The old people are wise. They can call for calm or call for revolution. They can speak of solutions that the politicians daren’t speak of, or don’t want us to consider or know exist. These are our needs. So the old pirates give us Popcorn by Hot Butter.

It is time that the grass roots rebelled instead of being so compliant. It is time that pirate radio meant wise words showing us how to think freely and outside of the corporate politically correct box. But, we get Una Paloma Blanka.

Pirate radio operators from the older generations should be absolutely ashamed.

I watched some kids t’other day, buying fireworks...

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0000

Why don’t fireworks have a safety...

...feature that detects the date?...

...If it’s not Guy Fawkes Night...

...as soon as they are lit...

...they blow up immediately...

...destroying the hand or limb...

...of the moron lighting them!

I watched some kids t’other day, buying fireworks in one of those shops that normally does other things, then suddenly gets draped with a ‘fireworks sold here’ banner around this time of year.

In the first place, they were obviously kids, and the shop keeper shouldn’t have been selling them fireworks at all. I’d imagine they were worried about the premises being attacked, and bricks and other missiles shattering the shop windows if they refused.

I continued watching the kids as they went straight to a side street and started letting them off. As usual, these loud explosions caused sleeping babies to wake and start crying and startled dogs to start barking.

Maybe one way of cutting down kids having fireworks would be to say they must be bundled and sold in multiples of (say) £50 lots. Being allowed to sell individual bangers and so on is what contributes to the problem, surely?

My Trolley Rage

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0000

Okay, I’m getting to grips with this shopping lark, but I am suffering from trolley rage.

Supermarkets. You get a trolley, walk around the stacks of food containers that have inside them the product of your desire.

You then queue up at a check-out behind some stupid fool who has a trolley full of items that won’t scan properly, and despite the ringing of the bell twice by the check-out girlie the supervisor is nowhere to be seen. When all purchases have been finally rung-up it is then, and only then, that the fool starts to slowly search through their bags for their purse, which of course is nowhere to be found.

Eventually they find something and pay, trying to slowly count out the exact change which they haven’t actually got. They only realise they haven’t got it when they finish counting out the pennies and other loose change for the third time.

It is then and only then that they slowly start to pack away their purchases into bags, despite the fact that they are obviously in your way and should have damn well started packing as soon as each item had been scanned. They are now seriously in your way. You lean over them or try to squeeze past them to save your purchases from stacking uncontrollably over theirs, but they don’t budge from their preoccupation with putting foods into sub-bags within their main bags.

Frustrated, you try to boil their brain with powerful rays from your eyes, but they are far too stupid to pick-up on your displeasure. It is only then that you suddenly realise this is the same moron that trapped you for 15 minutes by the bread counter, by having their trolley straddled completely across the aisle at right angles so that nobody could get passed, whilst they stood staring blankly at the choice of loaves available. More than one loaf being available obviously overloads their tiny brains forcing them to stand motionless for hours at a time trying to re-boot into decision mode.

Anyway, you remember their face from the accusing scowl they gave you when you’d tried to do something about the log-jam of trolleys stuck behind her by saying, “Excuse me please?”

So, you can deal with all that by deliberately visiting supermarkets late at night. This is a time for efficient well-oiled shoppers who know how to get in, get what they want, and get out. The fool never shops at night, so you are safe. Night is the time when the fool has spent 20 minutes working out where their bedroom is, and how to get into bed, following their brain saying, “Oh. It is dark outside. It must be time for bed.” Sigh. These people are allowed to vote and reproduce?

Meanwhile, they just leave me with trolley rage and a need to scream in their faces.

Hmmm. Got yourself employment have ya? Hah! Not for long. You...

Mon, 26 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0000

Hmmm. Got yourself employment have ya? Hah! Not for long. You is doomed. Doomed!

"Guillermo Vargas Habacuc - now there’s a name millions across the internet really hate. But why?..."

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0100

“

Guillermo Vargas Habacuc - now there’s a name millions across the internet really hate. But why? Well, because somebody has hoaxed them into believing that he allowed a captured stray dog to slowly die as part of an art installation. Thousands of sites echo the demands for this artist’s head. Why are the masses so easily hoaxed and controlled in this way? Why don’t they check the facts first?

Is this how religions are successfully started?

”

- Christopher England just rhetorically asked that!

The hounding of Chris Moyles

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0100

Chris Moyles is now the longest serving breakfast show presenter on BBC Radio 1, and with every additional month he sits in the morning hot seat the clucking neigh-sayers (or is that “nay-sayers”?) get louder. Despite his huge audience figures, they say “it’s only a matter of time”, “his days are numbered”, “not long now” with obsessive compulsive repetitiveness.

Eventually when Chris is toppled from his throne, the clucking will of course turn to “told you so”, “I knew it was coming”, “just as I said it would” and multiple variations thereof. Chris Moyles will never win against the cluckers.

Logically, the cluckers are going to eventually be right. Yeah, but only in the same way that if they were pointing at a new born baby saying, “Oh they’re going to die you know,” and then when they eventually died aged 120, they smugly said, “Told you!”.

However, as Chris is unfortunately heading to his own breakfast radio demise (as is every breakfast radio presenter), it is hard to see from this angle what the BBC will do to replace him. Indeed, what will they do with him?

Current policy is to pension daytime presenters off to token weekend shifts for a while before they silently exit stage left. Will he enter the wilderness of obscurity and silence before eventually resurfacing on BBC Radio 2? Does he have a future on TV? Time will tell. Time will tell.

Why can’t we wait for time to pass naturally and just enjoy his journey in the meantime? The cluckers seem to want to get to the end of the story oblivious to the laugh out loud fun that Chris has to offer to entertain us well before he is pensioned off.

At times his radio show can be bad and boring. At other times it is belly-laugh funny, highly entertaining and informative. Like everything it has its swings and roundabouts. Not every episode of Corrie is brilliant either.

For now his show fits the needs and requirements of a huge audience, so to get rid of him would be to get rid of him for getting rid of him’s sake. Much as that would excite the cluckers, it would leave a void.

I’ve speculated that Vernon Kay might step up to take the baton, but in truth his style is not too dissimilar to Chris’s. Is that the audience that the BBC’s yoof station should be chasing?

When Chris is on holiday, the breakfast show is covered by Scott Mills who normally presents the afternoon drivetime. Despite being the same age as Chris, Scott sounds younger and more down with the kids. His show is faster moving with quick fire humour and features with less long monologues and slow patter. Maybe this is the future of a Radio 1 breakfast show. But, this is the future we are talking about. The future.

Back in the present there’s a perfectly fine Radio 1 breakfast show presented by a perfectly fine Chris Moyles. Let’s stop hounding him and enjoy what he brings us for as long as it is right that he brings it to us. I suspect we will really miss him when he’s eventually gone.

Marry the Ripper? WTF?

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0100

Peter Sutcliffe, the Yorkshire Ripper, brutally murdered 13 women over a four year period, horribly mutilating their bodies, and was later diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic. He’s serving life in prison. Well, in Broadmoor high security psychiatric hospital, actually. He’s been there for 30 years, with possible release on the cards in the next few years.

Now then. In that time he has had an average of 30 letters a week from women admirers. These nutters just started writing to him and became pen pals. One woman moved nearer to Broadmoor in order to be closer to him, and another used to regularly visit him. Now, it’s just got worse; there’s one who’s getting married to him.

What the fuck? These women are allowed to vote, to reproduce, to look after children, to walk the same streets as me or my children, and their big thing in life is to be infatuated with a mass murderer they’ve never met? What is wrong with these women?

Jeez, the man killed and mutilated women for fun. And that attracts them to become his penpals?

Yeah, writing to somebody who has done nothing wrong, or is a hero but stuck unable to live a normal life, befriending a scared serviceman overseas, or simply finding somebody to communicate with from a totally different culture, or even talking to somebody who is terminally ill, all makes sense. But, why would you want to write to a mass murderer? Yet, murderers attract women. The more horrific or notorious that murderer is, the more that women are attracted to him. Why?

This latest nutter, a 56 year old lady called Pam, after writing to him constantly for the last 15 years, has just taken to wearing and showing off an engagement ring and proudly talking about her “fiancee”, the mass murderer. But, this women has children and grandchildren! What is she doing outside of some mental institute? She’s dangerously insane! Don’t their families think they are nutters?

I’d be scared for the safety of my children were it my mother started ‘virtual dating’ a mass murderer.

You couldn’t make it up, could you? This is not normal behaviour. These mass murderer lovers should be locked up. They are a danger to themselves and to others, with a complete disregard for the 13 victims.

Love it. Fight!!

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0100

Love it. Fight!!

"I like my desk untidy. I know where everything is. It doesn’t distract from the way I function. It’s..."

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0100

“

I like my desk untidy. I know where everything is. It doesn’t distract from the way I function. It’s how I function.

Somebody else prefers her desk tidy. I guess she knows where everything is. I guess it doesn’t distract from how she functions. I guess it’s how she functions.

Yet, she’s always tidying up my desk (to the point where I can’t find anything), and apparently that’s acceptable. However, it was totally unacceptable when I to decide to untidy her desk. She went crazy at me.

Why?

”

- Christopher England just asked that!

Ikea .... please, no!

Tue, 20 Oct 2009 00:05:00 +0100

Ikea is a ‘Scandinavian’ self-assembly furniture shop. Well, it’s lots of shops. Huge shops. They are making an absolute fortune for the owners, because somehow they discovered how to tap into the female shopping gene.

Females are able to ignore all logic and danger when their shopping gene (or maybe it’s a hormone, if there’s any difference between genes and hormones in women) has kicked in. Triggers appear to usually be shoes or handbags. In pursuit of these, and the undefined word ‘bargain’, women will fight each other to the death. They will also ignore the fact that they are likely to be crushed to pulp in crowds, or die from heat exhaustion, and instead focus on their one goal – the purchase of the ‘bargain’.

Some years ago the man behind Ikea managed to work out how to trigger the response normally reserved for shoes and handbags, but with self-assembly flat-pack furniture, soft furnishings, lighting and other ‘home’ based stuff. Clever bastard. How other men hate him.

Ikea has made such an impact in modern society that estimations are that through-out the EU, 10% of conceptions are achieved in an Ikea bed. I’m assuming this is NOT just one bed somewhere that everybody goes to, but … well, you know what I mean. I also assume that’s not on the first night of trying to assemble the bloody thing. Women (the bitches) normally leave this part of the process to the man, who ends up too knackered to help her conceive after hours of trying to ‘easy’ assemble the impossible.

Ikea’s magnet is so powerful that three people died in scuffles and crushes during a stampede of hundreds trying to get a bargain when the new store opened in Saudi.

A number of years back, a store just down the road from me opened (Well, it’s not exactly just down the road. It’s in Edmonton, but that’s dangerously closer than the other branches. I say dangerously because I’ve noticed a woman twitching as she sniffs the air and definitely has its scent to the point where she’s pacing with that glazed look in her eyes). It opened at Midnight and closed half an hour later after everything went wrong. Crowds surged forward and there was panic and people were hurt. That’s all sorted now and the store re-opened quietly. That didn’t stop the mad Sunday shoppers though, causing yet more scary crushing.

Now then, men have logic and method to their shopping abilities. They know it makes sense to take time off work and visit on a weekday. The place will be less hot, people won’t be pushing and shoving, and the queues for the checkouts won’t be so long that they have entertainers doing complete shows whilst you wait. However, women want to go shopping on Sundays. Or Bank Holidays.

It may well be that they deliberately pick this as a torture that women use against men, one of their anti-male sports (you know, they all nod and wink at each other at how funny their stressed males look as they are dragged around, but men don’t see this, being pre-occupied with whether or not their last will and testament is up to date). Women do this to get back at men following an argument from four or five years ago that the man just can’t remember.

The Ikea stores (all of them) are designed so badly (deliberately) that you have to march along with the 2,000 other visitors in quite a scary way through bottlenecks and areas where nobody is moving and there is no oxygen. Exit signs are not marked properly (well, yes the Emergency ones are), so there appears to be no short-cut to get away from being on the huge conga chain. Yes, you may want to make a bee-line to a particular thing, but you ain’t going to. You will have to slowly walk past everything else first. Those are the rules, and the ladies love them.

Anyway, it was some six months before I was eventually accidentally dragged to the new Edmonton store, despite it supposedly being the largest. My household female mentioned it quite a few times before I had to use the industrial strength gaffer tape over the mouth trick, and shorten the chain that keeps her in the kitchen. Since the riots I had been constantly subliminally moaning about what a terrible and DANGEROUS place Ikea is. I even brought up the story of the deaths in the Ikea in Saudi to try to emphasise the point. Eventually this stopped working. The need to go to Ikea is genetically imprinted into females.

In the end I had no option but to face this inevitable evil and I went. Recently talk of Ikea has returned. Now it’s only a matter of time. May god have mercy on my soul.