And the question was….

Are we all as thick as she (the Baroness in the wheelchair) thinks we are?

‘Lady’ Grey-Thompson reckons that ‘richer’ or ‘wealthier’ or ‘more better-off’ countries can stick their hands into their thick wallets; and cough up for countries who just don’t have that sort of cash, to get their poor, worried (and possibly even traumatised) paralympic athletes to travel to the Games in Rio. Baroness Tanni Grey-Thompson, who has won 11 Paralympic gold medals, is calling on wealthier countries to help ensure athletes from poorer nations can attend after promised grants have not been paid to them. The same woman who achieved this status of a Peer of the Realm, this ability to influence the very Law by which we are governed; solely and simply because she pushed a sawn-off supermarket trolley faster around a circuit than the other competitors.

Ignore the fact that less than 12% of the tickets have been sold for the Rio events. Ignore the fact that the Latin Americans don’t seem to be that bothered about the bloody Paralympic Games in the first place. Ignore the slightly-unwelcome fact that not many people other than the alleged athletes are really interested in this farrago of non-competition. Ignore the even more unwelcome truth that the vast majority if events are rigged to appear if all participants are ‘equal’. Not having observed any of these so-called athletic events for those less-than-able-bodied does not disqualify one such as myself from commenting; after all; we all have free will, and somewhat free speech.

The whole idea of the Games is based upon a single statement that all athletes, able-bodied or not, should be able to participate. Well, here’s at least one which does not agree. The National Lottery has funded both types of sports with a view towards competing in both types of Games. But has anyone been asked if they, individually, agree with such largesse being handed out on the basis of ‘It’s great to watch him/her jerk/waddle/lurch/twitch as he/she makes their way towards the finishing line’? It’s wonderful to see what he/she can do when he/she tries!’ Personally, I believe that the very idea of paying to watch a bunch of disabled people who cannot compete in any meaningful way against other able-bodied athletes, competing against those who are disabled themselves is nothing else than perverted voyeurism of the worst, twisted kind.

If the good Lady wishes to see all the ‘athletes’ who face not being able to travel to ‘their’ Games achieve their goals, let her place her hands into her own presumably deep pockets, and see how many people join her in this particular act of generosity. To watch relays of men or women pushing sawn-off Sainsbury’s supermarket trolleys around a track might appeal to some, and to help the participants arrive at a distant venue may stir more, but Lottery funds, or even Taxpayers’ cash, should not be used to further the ambitions of a very select group of individuals.

Civis Romanus Sum

When Roman generals returned home after conquering ‘furrin parts’ with their armies, they were awarded a victory parade. Carried in a wreath-garlanded chariot, the author of the massacre which ended the war is moved along  a pre-ordained route towards the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill. Standing alongside the victorious general by his side, holding a golden crown over his head, is a slave; whose only other job is to murmur into the general’s ear that ‘he is mortal, and human, and all these things are fleeting, and ephemeral; and will soon pass’.

Preceding the victor are the Senate, the magistrates, along with musicians and jesters. The streets are thronged with adoring citizens, waving olive branches and singing as they welcome the latest son of Rome to return, successfully, from a foreign campaign. Following the victor’s chariot are the captured animals, the slaves, the pillaged treasures to help pay for an Empire which stretched beyond the charts. A chosen selection of the men from the victorious legions marched behind at the base of the column, all of whom did not wear their usual campaign armour, nor did they carry their full weaponry; as the Senate knew full well the problems which might occur when a general got ideas above his station.

At the end of the parade, the victor, having received his ‘Triumph’ sat down to a night of debauchery, all the soldiers got drunk, all the slaves were slaughtered, and the Roman Empire’s accountants began to write down exactly who got what according to the usual ‘spoils of war’ ratios applicable at the time.

That being the case, what the f*** are we doing organising a bloody triumphal parade for the ‘heroes of the Olympics’ up in bloody Manchester.

“it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less”

The target for today’s diatribe is Terrorism, but not the garden variety, which of course wants to turn us all into muslim slaves of the Caliphate; or alternatively dead. No, the version of the terrorism which I wish to discuss today is one which was quite popular in the 1990’s (to the deliverers of that particular terror, that is) which was the Animal Rights grouping; in the news just today. When I state ‘in the news today’, this must be explained in the context of the actions of this particular rabid bunch who decided that all animals should be freed, none held or bred in captivity for the (in their opinion) vile purpose of supplying skins to the fur market, or battery hens for egg production, or caged animals bred specifically for scientific or medical research; and that all direct action was good.

But, I hear you ask, how or when was the Animal Rights terrorists’ actions or activities talked about, or discussed this morning? The reader might well state that he or she was listening to the radio for the full three hours of the Today Programme, and nary a word about Animal Rights was spoken, and they would be correct, for it was not what was said, but that which remained unspoken which was so important. The news item under watervole1discussion was the return or reintroduction of one hundred water voles to a lake in Yorkshire. These tiny animals had been bred in captivity, and were to be set free in the area where once thousands had in fact roamed free, because they had very few natural predators to fear. The interviewer asked the National Trust ranger for Malham Tarn Estate what had happened to the original vole population, and she stated, without any inflection whatsoever, that the vole population had been decimated by American Minks which had ‘escaped’ from farms in the vicinity. Now the Mink is well known to be a vicious predator in its native homelands, and when the ‘animal rights’ set of clowns decided that they knew best, raided fur farms all over Great Britain, and loosed these vicious predators upon the native species, the worst affected was the water vole, as they were nearly wiped out by the rabid attack of American minks.

So, the furry, funny story of how the ‘conservationists’ were saving yet another species was true, but the whole truth of how that tiny rodent was very nearly wiped out was not fully explained; probably because both the National Trust and the BBC really like the whole idea of the rancid mob behind the ‘animal rights and protection brigade’, and respect their views, and quietly hope that people will just forget about the type of clowns similar to the bunch who stole a body from a grave, and held the family to ransom; all because they ran a guinea-pig farm. The BBC called these vicious bastards ‘activists’, because you can sympathise with an ‘activist’, but not with a ‘terrorist’!

Thick as Pig S***, but dangerous with it!

I have commented previously on the clinical stupidity which seems to be the sole drive inhabiting the disease-infected mind and body of Pauline Cafferkey; that’s the terminally-moronic woman who flew back on a commercial flight from Sierra Leone, and onwards to Glasgow after ‘doing good’ in amongst the Ebola-spattered residents of Freetown. As you may recall, she swanned around the tv and radio studios, doing the ‘I’m a heroine, but modest with it’ routine, but felt ‘really poorly’ before being flown down to London courtesy of the RAF in a mobile isolation bed, as the silly cow had in fact contracted Ebola. She was held in the London Free Hospital at no doubt enormous cost, before being discharged and sent home. She was returned to hospital twice more, and now is suffering from the effects of meningitis, contracted as a result of the Ebola. In amongst the hospitalisation, this bloody disgrace visited schools around Scotland, telling how she was so brave, and caring, and all the other bullshit!

We now learn that she was not only terminally-stupid; she lied when she arrived back on the plane from Sierra Leone, as she did not tell the Heathrow Arrivals Health Screening staff that she had taken paracetamol, which subdued or masked her actual temperature, thus lying and evading the protection steps which had been introduced by a worried British Government. She then skipped aboard the bloody BA jet, and flew up to Glasgow, with the ever-increasing chance of infecting everyone she came in contact with, BECAUSE SHE KNEW BETTER THAN THE ‘EFFING EXPERTS!

She is now facing a fitness to practise hearing with a date set for next month in Edinburgh; held by The Nursing and Midwifery Council. Unfortunately, they only have the power to strike her off the Nursing Register; they are unable to administer the death sentence: pity, that.

and the seat is padded with shaven pubic hair….

I posted a couple of days ago on the frustrations of buying a chair online, and, as my mate James so rightly pointed out, with expectations falling so much short in reality. However, I returned that chair, and eventually received a refund, so continue my search. I am constrained, partly by budgetary considerations, and still looking for value for money. I am not so silly as to do more than browse past the ludicrously priced items found here, which presumably sell upon a known ‘name’, but, with the wide expanse of business on t’Internet from which to choose; I hope to buy a decent chair to replace the old, more-than-slightly-worn chair upon which I am now seated. But as I gazed at web-page after page, I remembered a construction site at which I worked, after retirement, as a relief Clerk-of-Works for about four-odd weeks. There were two buildings where I had to supervise all the mechanical and electrical installations, and, although both buildings were only three/four stories high, they were fairly complex in terms of air-conditioning, lighting and electronic equipment. One building was dedicated to the dark arts of digital electronic engineering, inclusive of coding, the other was more entertainment, film and business-oriented, but both were aimed at the education of youngsters in this, our digital world.

As you may understand, because I needed to look and check every aspect of the works, I was able to go everywhere, including areas which were ‘locked-off’ after completion; mainly to see the finished item. I gained access to the ground floor classrooms, all of which were full, and I do mean ‘full’ of boxes all containing chairs for the students to use. Now I understand that, when you expect to spend seven-eight hours per day seated before a computer screen, you need to be comfortable; but when I saw that the Digital College had purchased 745 off Herman Miller Aeron Office Chairs, I did remember blinking, at least three times, which is an outward sign, for me anyway, of extreme annoyance. Some ten years ago, each Aeron Office Chair; which in the world of chairs comes across as the ‘Rolls-Royce’ of the seating market, cost £700.00 exc. vat; so the total purchase cost of seating for the Digital College was £521,500.00.

Nice work, as long as you are spending other people’s money!

There is more than one way of ‘playing the game’…

Examine, if you would, the three photos I have placed on the page. These three images represent, to my mind the best, the worst, and the unspeakable; of the modern Olympic movements, and of those who compete.

olympics1The first photo depicts the ultimate in militaristic boastfulness, when Hitler’s Nazi Germany presented the 1936 Olympics as a salute to the Aryan Ideal, with the marching German athletes perfectly in step, last into the Arena as the Host Nation. Hitler was positive that his ‘Master Race’ would sweep the board; but, unfortunately, the Americans had their own ‘secret’ weapon; namely Black American athletes, who wiped the Master Race off the arena floor with their triumphs, when eighteen black men literally ruled the ‘track and field’ events. But Hitler and his Nazi friends were at least honest to their way of thinking, when they depicted the black Americans as ‘Auxiliaries’; but perhaps the Nazis would have made a better run at a meaningful propaganda statement by retailing what happened to those same Black athletes upon their return to segregated America. Jesse Owens was the first black captain of the Ohio State University athletics team, but he had to live off campus, shower separately, eat at designated black-only restaurants and stay in black-only hotels while travelling. He was never invited to meet the President, as most white Olympic athletes were; when Owens attended a non-presidential reception in his honour with his mother at the Waldorf Astoria, they had to use the goods lift; because the hotel lifts were for whites only.


The second photo is for a similar event, but a vastly different world within which it was staged. This is the ‘opening ceremony’ of the 1948 Olympic Games, hosted by London and Great Britain because nobody else wanted it. London was little better than a partially-cleaned-up bombsite, but with clearly marked streets and roads. We had no infrastructure; hell, we didn’t have any money; fighting a World War costs money; and we were broke. The Canadians provided the redwood trees for the diving boards, the Swiss gave us the gymnastic equipment, and Finland gave us the special timber for the basketball court. Our own athletes were attempting to compete whilst everyone was still on rationed food, and the Americans organised daily transatlantic flights of steak for their athletes, because they knew if their guys had to subsist as the locals did, they would collapse from hunger. The entire Games was organised from a rented Catholic Church Hall with three blackboards signed ‘Today’, ‘Tomorrow’ and ‘The Day after Tomorrow’. But it was a cleaner Games, the 1948 London Games was defiantly amateur; it was closer to the dream of Baron De Coubertin than anything which went before, and most, if not all, of what happened in the decades to come. Fanny Blankers-Coen and Emil Zatopek were hailed as heroine and hero, because they were of the people; not manufactured, not groomed and glossed: but just Honest.

Olympics - Opening Ceremony

BEIJING – AUGUST 08: Fireworks explode from the stadium roof during the Opening Ceremony for the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics at the National Stadium on August 8, 2008 in Beijing, China. (Photo by Adam Pretty/Getty Images)

The third photo is of the one Olympics which should not have been. It was manufactured, sold and marketed because the sponsors wanted to sell, and Beijing was ready to be that shopfront. A large cadre of ageing apologists for mass-murder hired an American marketing group, sold the story and gained the Olympics. They said that the Internet would be free of censorship, and unencumbered by blocking; they also said that pigs would fly! The gross hypocrisy of a bloodthirsty dictatorship hosting a World-class sporting Event, and the only protests were muted, and ignored. The Games were held, the drug-soaked clowns ran, and jumped, and splashed; and for all I cared farted as well. The Communist Party was well pleased, and the slave-labour factories, owned by PLA generals, did enormous business selling garbage to the Gwailos who flocked to China’s very own blood-soaked Games!