The world’s troubles cause fallout everywhere and despite rosy editorial, many of us know the reality with business being so bad we’re heading to Calais. There’s an old joke which goes; ‘When I was a kid, I prayed everyday asking God for a new bicycle, but my mentors kept telling me that it doesn’t work that way and the Good Lord offers redemption to those who seek forgiveness. So I stole the bicycle and asked him to forgive me’. Society at large appears to have adopted this mantra demanding everything be given to them on a plate, and then blame anything and everything else but themselves when it doesn’t happen. Oh! That’s a bit like terrorism in reverse. And then there’s always the housemaid if all else fails.

Where does the blame lie? Our assumed utterly polarized society and politics today muddles through, but we are in a mess to say the least and the big sort out is just around the corner. There are some very cruel people in the world but as for being polarized, well this is fiction and merely the imperious politicians creating this ideology as ‘divide and rule’. Deluded of course, but one hopes the reality is that most of us think much the same. You know; have humanitarian hearts, believes cabbage is good for you, don’t eat children, love animals, hang murderers and anyone who shoots a lion or goes to dog fights. After all, politicians are the only ones to reject capital punishment fearing one less vote. However, try to physically take our money and see what happens. Absolutely nothing in this world is free so Governments giving aid to third world countries is merely a bribe but perceived as ok and not your own dosh, but if someone knocks at your door asking for a couple of grand to feed Africa, you’ll tell them to give Bob Geldof a call, that he has plenty and you bought the CD to prove it.

As Margret Thatcher said; ‘The problem with socialism is that; ‘Eventually, you run out of other people’s money’. (See the hate mail that that generated. It’s a good job Facebook wasn’t around then or we might well have had organized troll terrorism financed by Russell Brand’s publicist). Brainwashing British politics could be blamed for European ideology now or perhaps it is something to do with the English language which has spread all over the world in all its forms, much of it with an Indian accent, so maybe it wasn’t the advent of television after all. Just like communism this big Fabian-Marxist trip since the 60s is heading for a major disaster but egocentric politicians polarize in their endless endeavour to be noticed and just like Hitler, employ YouTube like thugs to get the ball rolling; trolls who spread verbal hate knowing full well that the masses believe everything they read half the time – if they can read that is.

More than a few say there really is no difference between all parties or politicians and absolutely ‘all’ politician are driven by their alter ego. Look at Gordon Brown, an unelected Prime Minister who didn’t want to go. Knock knock! ‘Whose there’? ‘David’! ‘David who? ‘David Cameron, get out of my house’. With their only qualification being able to memorize ‘yuckspeak’ catchphrases, it has to be the alter ego, because that’s the bits that stay hidden, but underneath it all it is this massive ego bigger than Bono’s which drives them.

The hedonistic Greeks invented democracy according to the Greeks and the Greek word for ‘I’ is ‘Ego’, so maybe they are to blame for everything. Let’s rest our case here. Baroness Thatcher will be turning in her grave quoting Churchillisms; ‘Never have so few paid so much for so many who won’t take care of themselves’. Why would you, if there is always someone else ready to cough up? Surprisingly, of David Cameron’s ‘swarms of immigrants plying the channel’, how many are Greeks? None for three reasons; they don’t need visas, Greeks like Greece better and they hold the world record for bank holidays.

Still, apart from Greece, the so-called socialists are out now. In Britain, they’re running around like ‘edless chickens with both Miliband and Balls gone. As one party member said; ‘There’s a sense of great loss over Balls’. For sure, the tomcat next door had the same feeling coming back from the vets the other day. Laughable, Harriot Harmon, says she doesn’t want to be Prime Minister; well the feeling is very mutual.


Page 201
Bahrain this month April 2015


Spoiler warning: The following article contains flash photography and an authentic sense of humour embodied with language which many who have lost touch with reality will find offensive. Furthermore, the risk of triggering bouts of Jeremy Clarkson syndrome for those affected is quite high

Don’t you just love living in Bahrain where Political Correctness has as much presence as a Casper in a bacon factory here. Bahrain is the classic Hotel California; ‘You can check out any time, but you can never leave’. Utterances like; ‘How dare you’ and ‘apologize now’ are as rare as unicorn dung and you are going nowhere with it even if you try. So for the PColics, here’s an apology before you palpitate; ‘Sorry, you are in Bahrain and you love it. Get over it – now’.

It confuses the life out of expatriates of the appeasement generation who have elsewhere collectively dominated not only what we say, but how we must appease, live and act among each other. A particular flare up issue is and always will be the imported and imposed cultures; those who in principle leave their unhappy, often violent homesteads to pursue a better life in the west, but through bloated Political Correctness are allowed to create what they left behind in the new paid for home. ‘No problem’ reads the flyer; just make sure you vote Socialist. Wait! Sit down, take some water, you are having a Jeremy Clarkson reaction already.

Is it ok to carry on now?

So you have arrived on these shores and are initially horrified by the total disregard for sensitivities other than religion but have somehow fallen in love with the place. A conundrum as Radio Bahrain’s Mr. Fisher would put it and Christopher Hitchens a self-proclaimed Marxist, Neo Conservative (no confusion there then) and polemicist – expounded as to how depressed he was. Even he couldn’t fight his own doctrine. Confused he says; ‘Living in a country where you can be told “That’s offensive” as if those two words constitute and argument’.

While Da’esh physically and terminally wipe priceless artefacts off the earth, limp ‘Peeceeuraucrats’ as far afield as Alaska have engaged in apocalyptic paternalism for the past 40 years or more (Look it up). This culminates in the abstract removal of one of life’s greatest arts, by actively suppressing any form of laughter as they attempt to eliminate all traces of the once upon a time intangible hormone called ‘a sense of humour’, simply because it is deemed offensive to someone somewhere; known or unknown, close by or maybe 50,000 light years away, or even dead. ‘They’ have near succeeded too, judging by the number of trolls out there.

Clarkson’s antics, hype or real has started a colossal world opinion war which could be the obtuse catalyst for a physical revolution. The BBC chocolate box boss says with naïve brainwashed, privileged but amateur confidence; ‘No individual is bigger than the show’. Oh really sir and on which piece of Marxist Fabian parchment does it support that? In this case Mr. Luvvie might consider calling his favourite chiropractor to help him extract his head from behind his belly button. And if Jonofon Roff gets the job it would be a war crime.

It is strikingly obvious; UK and Europe in particular are a mess with a massive volcano about to erupt, as missionary statements commanded by this now echelon of society are being challenged. Forcibly by law ‘they’ have dictated speech content using a viral language called ‘clichéd rhetoric’ in response to anyone who starts a sentence with the words; ‘I think’.
Despite the plethora of peroxide blondes on Fox News never having wanted to master ‘clichéd Rhetoric’, the unearthly profusion of closet members at the BBC are extremely fluent in it. Ask yourself, why did Esperanto fail? Because words like ‘foreign’ (eksterlandaj) and ‘obese’ (graso bastardo) were just too long

The echelon, ‘they’ have successfully been forcing equalization and drabness upon us, even degrading exam standards so as not to offend the dopey. With droves of ‘clichéd Rhetoric’ speakers in tow; mouthpieces like the BBC and newspapers such as The Guardian, Independent, Huffington Post and a good few more, literally ‘speak for us all’. Megalomaniac egos overpower reason, with a desire to neutralize the voter base, in other words make us all totally indistinguishable from each other. You know the rules; do not profile at a crime scene or airport. Vanquish all thoughts that this person might be different because they have a beard or wear tribal like clothes and enforce colour blindness on everyone. Damn Clarkson.

Here’s a simple tip to detect ‘they’ when being subliminally nobbled. Every time you listen to a radio advertising message, promotion, current affairs presenters and now so-called entertainers, be conscious of the voice and demeanour. It is almost like it is one voice or clone of for all now; this incessant sickly, girly sing song replica of that BBC pop channel implant, spewing out insincere happiness. The liberally infected ‘Pronoun Virus’ ever present as she hangs words at the end of every sentence. Je suis all ‘WE’. If not her, then it is an equally effeminate male (we think) with a lisp, doing much the same. The Star Gate is somewhere in the Meteorological Office. Whoops! Severe Clarkson moment. Doctor!!! Plus, clock the clothes, particularly the BBC presenters. The female species so often wear vibrant blue or bright yellow and is as significant as a bird mating ritual. Blokes removing ties would be just too much for now, so wear pink for the same reason and red for allegiance. They even have the gall to wear arm bands if Bono from U2, Paul McCartney or Bob ‘Comfortably Numb’ Geldof strike up a cause. It is all so incestuous and closed shop. Clarkson has never been part of that, having slipped through the corridors years ago and like double jeopardy managed to hang on, but it was never going to be easy.