It’s all about global war, Ming.

Well now,

If we’re (stupid enough) to believe what the gubnment and the BBC tell us, we need to be saving the planet. Because we can’t assume that it managed just fine for the millions of years before we got here. That climate activity through the warm periods and the ice ages was all caused by burning fossil fuels. Because pteradons flew Lear Jets and stegasaurus drove HumVees. Colossal existential wipeouts were caused more by Easyjet than by asteroids & meteors, cosmic radiation fluctuations, castrophic volcanic episodes, reversals of the Earths magnetic poles etc.

So, obviously I’m doing my bit for the planet.

  • By disposing of all my household waste in a garden incinerator, and needless to say it’s not because the council are theiving tossers who dress up service cutbacks as environmental initiatives, thereby not emptying my friggin’ bin.
  • I also fly to the other end of the UK frequently, sometimes for a single 1 hour meeting. This obviously cuts down on road and rail congestion as well as freeing up internet bandwidth that would have been ringfenced for video-conferencing.
  • When I work from home, I run my car’s engine for an hour, to do my bit for the economy and the profitability of the oil companies and the government.
  • I admonish my guests for closing the doors or turning off lights when they leave rooms.
  • I run the aircon with the windows open.
  • The gas fire too. Sometimes as well as the aircon.

Arrrrggghhh. Just because all these interfering fuckers, with their sanctimonious proclaimations and injunctions, need to just leave me the fuck alone.

I never thought I’d find myself agreeing with this wittering bint, but in this case, I do.

I feel bad that maybe I’m not doing enough. But then it occurred to me – I’m doing more than most. I’m not having children. That’s about as environmentally friendly as it gets. Putting less people on earth does far more to prevent global warming than buying organic blueberries.

Sadly, there’s a mistake in her sidebar, where it says:

she writes a humorous weekly column, Cassandra.

I won’t hold it against her.

I bet she doesn’t even know that there’s a whole organisation behind her cause:

Phasing out the human race by voluntarily ceasing to breed will allow Earth’s biosphere to return to good health. Crowded conditions and resource shortages will improve as we become less dense.

Sounds good to me. Especially the bit about becoming less dense.

In the meantime, a nod to a couple of sites doing sterling work of opposing the Church of Anthropogenic Global Warming. – not exactly balanced, but I like it.

A Hot Topic Blog – There’s something beautiful about the footer of this site, where it saysMade on a Mac– using the lentilists’ own weapons against them.



Get out of my way you clueless gimp.

I drive a lot. I entered adult life transfixed by the independence and power of motoring.

But I’m not sure you could say I love cars.

In terms of ownership I don’t like the feeling of having a lot of money sunk  into a car, then being terrified that someone will bump, scratch or vandalise the thing. I like a fine driving tool, which draws minimum attention, affording maximum ability to make progress without being memorable enough to inform any kind of snitching to the coppers.

In terms of cars as art, I do admire a diminishingly small number of modern classics, but I set that aside in the context of the road. Being, as it is, a conduit to get me to where I am going. Utilitarian perhaps, but I value my time. I want to get there ASAP.

I don’t do a ‘driving job’, but I do clock up more than 20,000 business miles most years. Accordingly, I make observations and categorisations that help me identify the likely behaviour of my fellow road users. But I’m not a hypocrit, because to inform others that I drive like a pushy arrogant tosser, I bought a BMW.

Anyway, to the chase. Here’s a list of vehicles whose drivers need to get [FLASHES HIGH BEAM LIGHTS] out of my [FLASHES THEM AGAIN COME ON YOU TWAT MOVE] way:

  • Caravans
  • Honda CR-Vs
  • Volvos
  • Diesels
  • Elephant racing lorries
  • People Carriers
  • French Cars

I’ll be expanding on all this in due course.


Okay, okay… I’m getting on with it.

Since I started this pointless, tedious piece of shit blog, I’ve been looking around at other blogs. Not just for inspiration, but to work out what’s what and who’s who.

I’m not a long-time blog reader. I am an old hand at web-forums, pretty much all of which have descended from enclaves of enlightened banter and remarkable lucidity, to a troll infested, text-speak haven for the thick and tragically under-medicated.

So, I have established, during these years of forum-based discourse, that everyone else is indeed an utter moron with the deductive powers of a stillborn pure-bred crufts experiment, that it’s better to hold forth than to engage in a battle of wits with the unarmed. So I’m a born-again-blogosummitorother.

And I’m not exactly on my own here, am I? I’ve wondered at several points, as I’ve trawled blogs and beheld the insight, intellect, rich and varied writing styles, vitriol and back-biting, what I could possibly add to the world by spewing out whatever moaning shite was on my mind, when the blogs below seem to do a fabulous job of articulating a pretty close approximation of my own opinion.

But I’m tormented by the utterly knuckeheaded ways that our lives are being fucked up and poked into by state-sponsored drones who view their pay cheques, and their cherished flouescent tabbards, as just reward for years of being subservient, unimaginative, compliant, socialised shop-dummies, believers in political correctness, the goodness and righteousness of big-government, and endless welfare for those who won’t work.

The sort of men who buy insurance for every eventuality, drive a ‘safe’ car ‘safely’, cherish their lawns, idolise their precious (but stupid) offspring and relish every update on their safe-as-houses, publicly funded, gilt-edged pensions, while the rest of us calculate the infinitescimal chance of the National Insurance Ponzi Scheme even still existing by the time we want to retire, let alone providing a diet of more than catfood in our dotage.

The sort of women who it would be polite to call ‘prim’. Grey faced and terrified by the armies of paedos, dangerous dogs, hoodies, hippies, skinheads that must be roaming her very street, at this very moment. If this woman drives, she drives a small, practical car slowly and badly. Her children are the future and the world must know it. Won’t everyone please think of the children. Just not in that way. But give this woman a clipboard and a local-council badge and she’s Queen of whatever insignificant domain granted her. Off with the heads of the neigh-sayers, the doubters, the subversive influences who dare to doubt the wisdom and the power of the clipboard. Supplication will be achieved. Compliance will be assured.

No, just Old Holborn’s blog header puts my sentiments more succinctly:

Free Speech and I don’t care who I offend. If you are easily offended then you are a cunt. If you read the Grauniad just fuck off and die. I am not here to make friends, I am here to rant and vent my spleen. Oh, a quick note for any politicians who may wander in. Die.

Attention Gubbernment: Leave me the hell alone.

I like government to do stuff that only a government can do. National defense and justice being key examples. I don’t like government, local national or European, doing stuff that they are patently shite at, with my money and without my consent. I’m more than a little suspicious that upwards of 90% of the tax I pay is being spunked on the latter category.

Burning our Money gives enough examples, anecdotes and evidence to make me spit lava every time I open a payslip and see how much of my money is getting stuffed into the pockets of bureaucrats, quangos, consultants and publicity, all in the actual name of getting in my face and giving money to the feckless, stupid, inept and fecund.

In spite, or indeed because, of my utter contempt and loathing for the people running the UK, I do quite like to keep an eye on what the devious sods are up to. Guido Fawkes seems to do a pretty good job of shining a light on the rats’ nest of Westminster.

The ideal thing, would be for the hectoring and controlling classes to just fuck off and die. I’ll settle for them leaving me alone though. I think that makes me a libertarian. The Devil’s Kitchen quite nicely articulates some of the tenets and philosophy of the British libertarian.

There are more that I’ll mention in future posts, but just now I’m boring the crap out of myself so I’m going to open a bottle of wine and ponder the dichotomies of The West Wing, principally why it’s such good telly, even though they made it look like a good idea that America should be run by a Communist economics professor and a bunch of smug wanker lawyers who think that social justice is a thing to be achieved by state intervention.

The sort of smug wankers who sowed the seeds for the current sub-prime crisis by legislating in America to make sure that people who couldn’t pay a mortgage could still get a mortgage (Communities Reinvestment Act). That these people were principally black, should be of no concern, but this whole thing sounds to me like affirmative action mortgages, forcing the bank to sell on risky debt packages as best they could, to satisfy the perverse demands of political correctness.

Enough of this rambling bollocks. Mmmmmmm Chateau Margaux.

Al Jahom.

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