What Song Are You Listening To, Right Now?
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charver
You lookin' at my pint?
Freedom of Speech, that's some motherfuckin' bullshit
You say the wrong thing, they'll lock your ass up quick
Not my words, ladies and gents, but the words of utilitarian philosopher, John Stuart Mill in his 1989 track "Freedom of Speech" from the album of the same name. Or was it Iced-T? I'm always getting those two mixed up.
Nevertheless, those words of the late 20th Century are still valid as we head deeper into the 21st. I don't know if any of you noticed at all, but last week all the bigwigs from far and wide were in London to meet the Queen, have a few photos taken and have a bit of a feed while their various mandarins ran around trying to make it look as though they all know what to do about banks, hedges and things involving very big numbers printed in red. Exciting, what?
Obviously not everyone thought this was a good thing as the streets were littered with scruffy looking sorts, hanging around in furtive little groups barely able to conceal their enthusiasm for violence and extreme political thought. They seem to be letting anyone into the Metropolitan police nowadays. Maybe it was because there was an unexplained lack of Brazilian protesters that incidents of being shot in the face were down 100%?
This ruffian will think twice about asking a policeman the time in future
However, our good old British bobbies can never be accused of letting the side down and their diligence paid off as a death was chalked up on the board. Early reports claimed that the dead chap had a heart attack after being caught up in the crowds on his way home from work, the police having penned everyone in. Now it turns out that eyewitnesses claim that just prior to his collapse he'd been assaulted by those friendly riot squad officers, beloved of football fans throughout the land.
Still, even if it transpires that he was indeed assaulted, the Met have already gotten away with murdering an innocent man on the streets of London before.
'Harder Hit' - Loquat
You say the wrong thing, they'll lock your ass up quick
Not my words, ladies and gents, but the words of utilitarian philosopher, John Stuart Mill in his 1989 track "Freedom of Speech" from the album of the same name. Or was it Iced-T? I'm always getting those two mixed up.
Nevertheless, those words of the late 20th Century are still valid as we head deeper into the 21st. I don't know if any of you noticed at all, but last week all the bigwigs from far and wide were in London to meet the Queen, have a few photos taken and have a bit of a feed while their various mandarins ran around trying to make it look as though they all know what to do about banks, hedges and things involving very big numbers printed in red. Exciting, what?
Obviously not everyone thought this was a good thing as the streets were littered with scruffy looking sorts, hanging around in furtive little groups barely able to conceal their enthusiasm for violence and extreme political thought. They seem to be letting anyone into the Metropolitan police nowadays. Maybe it was because there was an unexplained lack of Brazilian protesters that incidents of being shot in the face were down 100%?
This ruffian will think twice about asking a policeman the time in future
However, our good old British bobbies can never be accused of letting the side down and their diligence paid off as a death was chalked up on the board. Early reports claimed that the dead chap had a heart attack after being caught up in the crowds on his way home from work, the police having penned everyone in. Now it turns out that eyewitnesses claim that just prior to his collapse he'd been assaulted by those friendly riot squad officers, beloved of football fans throughout the land.
Still, even if it transpires that he was indeed assaulted, the Met have already gotten away with murdering an innocent man on the streets of London before.
'Harder Hit' - Loquat
charver
You lookin' at my pint?
You catch me, on this dull overcast morning, on the downward slope of Mount Excitement. That's a metaphor so no need to go out and buy an atlas or anything. Anyway, for reasons i shall not bother with i had the good fortune to be in Britain's second city, Birmingham, yesterday. If you've ever been to Birmingham (i'm guessing that's not a lot of you) you'll know no mortal being could contain the waves of euphoria associated with such geographic proximity without a substantial supply of beta blockers and a large dose of ketamine. Kojak certainly thought so as the view took his breath away.
However, my rapid heart beat, sweaty brow and adrenaline surge had nothing to do with the sights and sounds of down-town Brum.
No. I managed to find myself slap bang in the middle of a major news story. Apparently some poor brown looking chap had been handed a dose of what you Americans call "enhanced interrogation methods" and was then left tied up in a car with a load of gas cannisters, which he had been told was a bomb. Of course the wannabe CIA chaps had the foresight to park brer Bombjack right next to New Street train station.
Now, i don't really mind if people want to scare the life out of a brown man (he probably even had a beard and everything) because everyone does that don't they? However, when it means that my train is delayed then that is where i draw the line. Don't these crazy fools think of the ordinary man and woman, who just want to get the hell out of Birmingham quicksmart, before they deposit their faux Asian suicide bombers in the most haphazard manner?
I didn't even get on the fecking telly either. Rats cocks.
'Tick...Tick...Boom' - The Hives
However, my rapid heart beat, sweaty brow and adrenaline surge had nothing to do with the sights and sounds of down-town Brum.
No. I managed to find myself slap bang in the middle of a major news story. Apparently some poor brown looking chap had been handed a dose of what you Americans call "enhanced interrogation methods" and was then left tied up in a car with a load of gas cannisters, which he had been told was a bomb. Of course the wannabe CIA chaps had the foresight to park brer Bombjack right next to New Street train station.
Now, i don't really mind if people want to scare the life out of a brown man (he probably even had a beard and everything) because everyone does that don't they? However, when it means that my train is delayed then that is where i draw the line. Don't these crazy fools think of the ordinary man and woman, who just want to get the hell out of Birmingham quicksmart, before they deposit their faux Asian suicide bombers in the most haphazard manner?
I didn't even get on the fecking telly either. Rats cocks.
'Tick...Tick...Boom' - The Hives
charver
You lookin' at my pint?
I believe it was Lionel Richie who said "Oh, what a feeling i'm dancing on the ceiling". Obviously Mr Richie was under the influence of powerful hallucinogen narcotics or was the owner of a property suffering from severe subsidence. It's alright Mr Richie, living off the fruits of his 1980s Commodore 64 sales, idling away his days body-popping in upside down houses but what would happen if we all did that? Frankly, i hadn't thought that far ahead but it would probably involve socialists forcing political correctness and immigrants down our throats.
Nevertheless, while Mr Richie is content dancing on it, i find myself wanting to punch holes in the ceiling. A British newspaper managed to get its inky hands on a complete list of expenses claims submitted by our hand-working politicians in the mother of parliaments. Bearing in mind that their expenses are supposed to cover legitimate outlay on various things crucial to carrying our their jobs as representatives of the people it has been interesting to see that some have been seeking reimbursement for gardeners and hanging baskets, cleaners, a carrier bag costing a whopping 5 pence, pornographic films, horse shit, pet food and fines for late payment of taxes. This on top of their second home allowances, travel expenses, office costs, communications allowances, food allowances, gold plated pensions, above inflation pay rises and their meagre 65 grand salaries.
Cabinet minister's porcelain and shame allergy used to justify million pound expenses claim for solid gold toilet in every room.
Although you have to hand it to Tory grandee, Douglas Hogg who thought he could not possibly carry out his duties as an MP if his piano wasn't tuned and his moat wasn't kept spick and span, thanks to the taxpayer. I always find i can never concentrate on any task if i know i have a filthy moat. Now it's all been made public they are all clamouring to apologise for "the system", which they have belatedly conceded is morally indefensible and must change. So bad was this system that it forced many of them to claim the maximum amount possible and inadvertently avoid paying all kinds of inconvenient taxes.
Politicians...aren't they great?
'This House is a Circus' - Arctic Monkeys
Nevertheless, while Mr Richie is content dancing on it, i find myself wanting to punch holes in the ceiling. A British newspaper managed to get its inky hands on a complete list of expenses claims submitted by our hand-working politicians in the mother of parliaments. Bearing in mind that their expenses are supposed to cover legitimate outlay on various things crucial to carrying our their jobs as representatives of the people it has been interesting to see that some have been seeking reimbursement for gardeners and hanging baskets, cleaners, a carrier bag costing a whopping 5 pence, pornographic films, horse shit, pet food and fines for late payment of taxes. This on top of their second home allowances, travel expenses, office costs, communications allowances, food allowances, gold plated pensions, above inflation pay rises and their meagre 65 grand salaries.
Cabinet minister's porcelain and shame allergy used to justify million pound expenses claim for solid gold toilet in every room.
Although you have to hand it to Tory grandee, Douglas Hogg who thought he could not possibly carry out his duties as an MP if his piano wasn't tuned and his moat wasn't kept spick and span, thanks to the taxpayer. I always find i can never concentrate on any task if i know i have a filthy moat. Now it's all been made public they are all clamouring to apologise for "the system", which they have belatedly conceded is morally indefensible and must change. So bad was this system that it forced many of them to claim the maximum amount possible and inadvertently avoid paying all kinds of inconvenient taxes.
Politicians...aren't they great?
'This House is a Circus' - Arctic Monkeys
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charver
You lookin' at my pint?
You could probably keep your house in Colorado and commute to London first class. It would probably work out costing us less of our tax dollars than we currently pay. Unless you've got a moat, of course.
Well, I plan on it for sure. Right after they install the solid gold bidet. Wouldn't want nasty bits of paper accidentally attaching themselves to someplace nobody looks at now. And I'm allergic to dust, so I think we'll need to at least plate most of the house and furniture.
What are the chances the Tories would accept a closet LibDem? Do they call them TINOs (Tories in Name Only) there?
charver
You lookin' at my pint?
Funny inventions bidets. We had one in a house when i was still in primary school. I am ashamed to say that i used to tell my mates that our bidet worked on the same principle as the water fountain in the boys toilets at school. Never had one since though.
I'm not sure if the Tories would have you. As they're shoo-ins to win, each constituency will be in the process of choosing from the various old-Etonians who have been to Oxbridge, and own the biggest house and impossibly poshest accent imaginable.
Still, i could give you a few accent tips. You could draw up a family tree claiming you were related to William Pitt the Younger and if you mentioned you'd once shot a poor person on your property then a solid gold bidet may be squirting in your direction soon.
cancel2 2022
Canceled
Far be it for me to defend politicians but I wonder how journalists or TV pundits would feel if their expenses were exposed to the cold light of day. Paxman can be a sanctimonious shit at times, he is pulling in nearly a million quid a year. I wonder if he will feel the need to open up his books seeing as he is sucking from the public teat as well.
I believe it was Lionel Richie who said "Oh, what a feeling i'm dancing on the ceiling". Obviously Mr Richie was under the influence of powerful hallucinogen narcotics or was the owner of a property suffering from severe subsidence. It's alright Mr Richie, living off the fruits of his 1980s Commodore 64 sales, idling away his days body-popping in upside down houses but what would happen if we all did that? Frankly, i hadn't thought that far ahead but it would probably involve socialists forcing political correctness and immigrants down our throats.
Nevertheless, while Mr Richie is content dancing on it, i find myself wanting to punch holes in the ceiling. A British newspaper managed to get its inky hands on a complete list of expenses claims submitted by our hand-working politicians in the mother of parliaments. Bearing in mind that their expenses are supposed to cover legitimate outlay on various things crucial to carrying our their jobs as representatives of the people it has been interesting to see that some have been seeking reimbursement for gardeners and hanging baskets, cleaners, a carrier bag costing a whopping 5 pence, pornographic films, horse shit, pet food and fines for late payment of taxes. This on top of their second home allowances, travel expenses, office costs, communications allowances, food allowances, gold plated pensions, above inflation pay rises and their meagre 65 grand salaries.
Cabinet minister's porcelain and shame allergy used to justify million pound expenses claim for solid gold toilet in every room.
Although you have to hand it to Tory grandee, Douglas Hogg who thought he could not possibly carry out his duties as an MP if his piano wasn't tuned and his moat wasn't kept spick and span, thanks to the taxpayer. I always find i can never concentrate on any task if i know i have a filthy moat. Now it's all been made public they are all clamouring to apologise for "the system", which they have belatedly conceded is morally indefensible and must change. So bad was this system that it forced many of them to claim the maximum amount possible and inadvertently avoid paying all kinds of inconvenient taxes.
Politicians...aren't they great?
'This House is a Circus' - Arctic Monkeys
charver
You lookin' at my pint?
I have no problem with the earnings of those working for the BBC being a matter of public record, and their expenses for that matter. What other journalist do to fiddle their expense accounts is down to their employer to sort out.
When it comes to MPs we are their employers, allegedly. And unlike print journalists, or employees of the BBC, they set their own rules on the guidelines governing their expenses and liability to certain tax regimes.
What i have major problems with is sanctimonious MPs backing "get tough" campaigns on people going a couple of quid over their earnings thresholds and being labelled "benefits cheats" by money grabbing bastards who demand clean moats, chandeliers and second, third fourth or fifth London homes subsidised by the taxpayer.
cancel2 2022
Canceled
Totally agree about politicians but BBC employees are also public servants in effect as the BBC is a public corporation.
charver
You lookin' at my pint?
As i say, i'm perfectly willing to adopt the slogan "publish and be damned" for everyone.
Hold them all to account. Especially when it comes to, say, everyone appearing on BBC3, i'm more than happy to bludgeon everyone to death immediately and sort out the matter of apportioning blame later. First up, whoever keeps commissioning 'Two Pints of Lager...'.
cancel2 2022
Canceled
Two pints is pretty dire but remember that BBC3 is also responsible for the Mighty Boosh.
charver
You lookin' at my pint?
Well, the pedant in me would point out that Radio 4 got there first, but i suppose i'd grudgingly accept that is the one thing BBC3 has put out that is any good.
Have you seen that thing with 'celebrities' pretending to be animals for a week? We were warned about this type of thing in 'The Day Today' and 'Knowing Me Knowing You' and now it has all come to pass. Surely we are living in the end of times.
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Canceled
I know it started on Radio 4 but it works so much better in a visual medium.
I would also point out that Coupling, Gavin and Stacey, Little Britain, The Smoking Room and Ideal all started on BBC3.
I would also point out that Coupling, Gavin and Stacey, Little Britain, The Smoking Room and Ideal all started on BBC3.
charver
You lookin' at my pint?
Yeah, as i say, i concede that 'The Mighty Boosh' is the only decent thing to come out of BBC3.
cancel2 2022
Canceled
That seems a bit harsh, surely you would at least agree that Ideal is different even if you don't like it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=GB&hl=en-GB&v=JPa6r3jjnS8&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?gl=GB&hl=en-GB&v=JPa6r3jjnS8&feature=related
Yeah, as i say, i concede that 'The Mighty Boosh' is the only decent thing to come out of BBC3.
cancel2 2022
Canceled
I think that people's ire might be better directed at the European Parliament's disgusting waste of money. To satisfy France's megalomania, 4,000 staff are shipped from Brussels to Strasbourg for one week in every month. The opportunities for fraud and graft are legendary, yet little is said about it. They also only have to sign in to claim their daily expenses, there is nothing to stop them pissing off for the rest of the day. Neil Kinnock to his eternal shame sacked the woman whistle blower who alerted the media to the Spanish Practices that are rife in Brussels.
charver
You lookin' at my pint?
The thing i'd say is that the output of BBC3 consists mainly of the same, rather ropey, three programmes being aired in a horrible loop of mediocrity.
Anything any good is immediately transferred to BBC1 or 2.
BBC3 essentially puts our the the sort of comedy programme that BBC2 used to commission before the Beeb decided it needed a dedicated channel of endlessly repeated tired comedy and 'factual' output like 'Help! My Hamster is Gay' or something featuring some simpleton who survives solely on a diet of Pop Tarts and camera crews. Public broadcasting at it's best.
If it's any good put it back on BBC2, scrap the rest and leave it to Channel 4.