I want him stretched star-form on the ground, with ropes attached to his arms and legs, whereupon he will be very slowly and excruciatingly torn apart by a quartet of extraordinarily lazy mules*. On valium.
His head—which will be kept alive through the wonder of modern technology (imported from the USA, since we don't invent anything in this country these days)—will then be used as a football in a five-a-side game played by over-enthusiastic midgets wearing steel-toecapped cricket boots; a game that only ends when the ball bursts apart like a gory watermelon, in a spray of blood and cranial matter, after a particularly hard hoofing from "Big Mac" McDonald, the roughest midget from Glasgow's Maryhill; Big Mac is renowned for wearing nothing but a kilt thus ensuring that the Gobblin' King's last conscious sight is that of a Glaswegian midget's massive, hairy, ginger knackers. And his cock.
Then, of course, the various bits of his body will be rendered down into soap and glue so that—for the very first time in his miserable, useless, incompetent, worthless life—the vicious old puritan will actually be of some use to someone, somewhere. Probably in the Third World, where the soap made from his face-fat will be used—in between her servicing of sweaty, long-distance truck drivers—to scrub away the vaginal discharge from the foetid minge of a thirty-eight year old, AIDS-infected prostitute. With scurvy. And a cold.
Because, how else can I possibly describe my contempt for Brown's latest piece of fuck-arsed pontificating?
Gordon Brown is urging British consumers to stop wasting food amid growing concerns over the sharply rising cost of basic necessities.
A Downing Street aide said: "The paper argues that we need to take action to reduce food waste…In the UK, recent estimates suggest that households could save up to an average of £420 per household every year by not throwing away a total of 4.1 million tones of food that could have been eaten."
Oh, do fuck off. You arseholes have been campaiging against packaging—which helps to protect food and make it last—and now you are campaigning... Oh, just fuck off.
Today's Cabinet Office study calls into question the growing of biofuels which has recently been encouraged to help reduce the reliance on fossil fuels. However, the Cabinet Office analysis concludes that "the risk of biofuel policies could exacerbate global food price increases over the coming decade."
Could? Could? Are you fucking blind, you fucking morons? It already has (via Bishop Hill).
Biofuels have forced global food prices up by 75% — far more than previously estimated — according to a confidential World Bank report obtained by the Guardian. The damning unpublished assessment is based on the most detailed analysis of the crisis so far, carried out by an internationally-respected economist at global financial body.
These people are now deliberately ignoring the cold, hard facts that are staring them in the face. And have been for months. They should be beaten with barbed wire. Seriously.
The Prime Minister is today due to arrive in Japan for the G8 summit and rising food prices figure prominently on the agenda.
Mr Brown will call for the creation of a new international panel of experts – mirroring a similar panel for climate change – which will examine long-term trends in food supplies and offer advice to individual countries.
Mirroring the one on climate change? Won't that be fucking ironic, eh? Since it is the measures taken to combat the phantom scare of climate change that has led to the rise in food prices: I do hope that the "new international panel of experts" is rather more successful—and has a rather better grip of supply and demand economics and the potentially tragic unintended consequences of attempting to piss about with economies—than the climate change panel has been. Oh, and I hope that they lie a little less too.
As for the food waste... well, I'll let Jackart sum up.
If I managed my food like you manage my taxes I’d be catapulting frozen turkeys out of the house in a quantity sufficient to make SW12 look like it was at the receiving end of some sort of biblical plague. So don’t lecture me on anything you’re not capable of doing yourself.
Quite. Bring on the drugged mules and the speed-freak, footballing midgets. You know it makes sense...
UPDATE: ChickenYoghurt's on form...
Can instructions on how to wipe your bottom properly be very far away?
The thing is, in effect, it’s been Brown who’s told us up until now to be so wasteful. It’s all the money we’ve been squittering for the last ten years that’s propped up his so-called economic miracle. And now he’s telling us to ignore his previous advice and get used to the good times being over. No return to boom and bust, eh Gordon?
Quite. It is worth remembering that whilst the Labour government has berated us for our high levels of personal debt—whilst at the same time encouraging us all to spend, spend, spend for the good of the economy—Gordon Brown has put us all in hock right up to the fucking eyeballs.
The man is a fucking wankshaft and should be punched in the face repeatedly by every taxpayer in the country before the mules and midgets are brought onto the scene...
* Mules are, of course, sterile because of a chromosome mismatch between the donkey and horse parents; one could say that mules are, in fact, crippled. Not only are the mules symbolic of the sterility engendered by the Gobblin' King's fucked-up socialist policies, but they could also be seen—by someone who is deeply sick, hem-hem—as a comment on the success of Gordon's own breeding programme.
UPDATE: obviously, I have misjudged the amusement value of the above comment. And whilst I would have thought that those who got excited about a passing comment referring to Gordon's progeny might also have some problem with me demanding that Brown be torn apart and his head used as a football (by midgets), apparently this is not the case.
As some way of making recompense, I have taken the standard government line and—instead of giving money to specialist schools and mental health wards—I have decided to enroll myself in a re-education programme.
As some people reading this blog appear to share similar views to my own, i.e. our empathy with the human race in general is pretty damn small, I have decided to share the organ of my enlightenment.
As such, ladies and gentlemen, I present you (via Trixy) with the memoirs of "a real life special education teacher": Tard-Blog.
I have been reading it avidly and it is only a matter of time before I, too, love
UPDATE 2: I wonder if anyone remember that old rhyme, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me"? Perhaps this commenter does, for whilst I employed mere words...
I won't ignore you though. Can I come and meet you so you can tell me I'm inferior because I have disabled child. I also have friend whose child died very young so i can bring him too if you like and you can express your feelings to our faces? Do your views on this subject extend to the degree that you'll meet us to talk about it?
Uh huh. Yup, it's the thinly veiled physical threat. I wonder if he and his friend would actually have sticks and stones? I suppose that those pieces of weaponry are a big out of date now: knives are rather more the norm, no? Do we think that Andy and his friend would like to prove their point by disabling me, killing me or just hurting me?
Ironically, long-time readers will know that I have some considerable experience in caring for the disabled; I (perhaps naively) believe that I have actively helped people, rather than believing that merely taking offence (or offering confrontation with hints of violence) will in some way better their plight.
It's a strange world that we live in, eh?