The Sounds of True Freedom

Yesterday afternoon a strange sound reverberated around the skies over Durham City. It was a sound which once comforted millions; a sound which gave the populations of Great Britain further assurance that the greatest Democracy in the known world was resolutely on our side, and that ‘Right’ was linked with ‘Might’ against the sinister forces which sat malevolently across Western Europe! The sound was that of four twelve-hundred horsepower Wright Cyclone radial engines turning eleven foot seven-inch diameter three-blade propellors; which in turn thrust a Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress bomber across the skies of the United Kingdom. The hammering blast of noise, which of course would be denounced these days as totally objectionable in terms of ‘damage to the environment’ was never subject to any complaints from the British population in the dark days of 1943; but instead was proof that America was with us in body as well as in spirit, because without both the lifeline provided by the Atlantic convoys, which helped supply and feed an embattled nation, and the huge influx of American servicemen and war material such as the formidable B-17 bombers, we would not have survived as a nation against the onslaught from Nazi Germany!

The Strategic Air Command, the one organisation dedicated solely to the destruction of the Communist Empire of Soviet Russia, fielded many types of bomber in it’s long and illustrious history, from the Boeing B-29 through to the B-47, the B-58 Hustler and the legendary B-52 of longer service than many alive today which was also known as the B.U.F.F’S., (for translation of this acronym, refer to Frederick Forsyth’s magic novel entitled “The Fist of God” where these splendid heavy bombers are referred to as “BIG UGLY FAT F*****S”); but the first design brought out by Boeing was the B-17 ‘Flying Fortress’, whose superb build and legendary toughness brought crews safely back to our shores from their punishing daylight raids over Germany.

These days we can sit back in our cars, and watch as the modern jets swoop overhead, wheeling and whistling as they pound past in air-shows up and down our country, confident that apart from the mad fanatics of the fuzzy muslim rag-heads, and the politically correct who wish to stop us even smiling, we don’t have all that much to worry about; and as we bake in this slightly un-British sunshine, remember the THIRTY THOUSAND American flyers who gave their lives so we might watch in peace!


One voice, one thought!!!

Watching the long procession of clowns jumping up and down while calling for “an immediate unconditional ceasefire” from the Israelis, and wondered how many think like I do, which is asking why the same voices were stilled when the murderers of Iran’s Hizbollah and Syria’s Hamas were engaged in their deadly war against the Jewish state?

Can it possibly be that they support any effort to wipe out these pesky Jews?

there truly are some ‘sicko’s out there!!

Surfing round my favourite blogs brought me to Blackfive, and caught a post about the murder of a serving soldier’s family in Kirkland, Washington State, and some comments posted by a bunch of weirdo’s as caught by the columnist Michelle Malkin after the news broke about this tragedy! Just imagine, if you can, the mindset of this man, faced not only with the truth of the brutal slaughter of his wife and children, but also the sick utterances of a bunch of psycho’s who cannot keep their fingers off their collective keyboards!

Let’s all hear it for the real ‘Good guys’!

When the final bombs and shells explode, when the guns fall silent, when Israel finally decides it can rest from it’s self-imposed cleansing task, I hope the rest of the world will ponder why all the loud calls for a ceasefire from only the Israelis? Haven’t seen many calls over the previous six years about the deadly games of ‘tag’ which the killers from Hezbollah played with the lives of ordinary Israelis as they fired their indiscriminate volleys of explosive-laden rockets into the Northern Galilee! I haven’t seen many calls for condemnation coming from the same mouths who are crying for a ceasefire now that Israel has decided that, for once, enough is enough; and the murderers are going to be taught a lesson! 

My only question to be asked of Israel is simple:


Who’s that guy waving the nuclear missile, Bub?

When the Government of the People’s Republic of China rest from their works while attempting to overhaul America, Japan and India as the world’s marketmaker, they really ought to have a quick look at the Elephant sitting not so quietly in the corner of the hallway. North Korea is making noises, and China is the only country in both the region and the world which that tiny, lunatic-lead bunch of losers and demagogues is gonna’ pay any attention to at all! Why, because the North Koreans know that the Communist Chinese are more than ruthless at stamping out dissension within their own huge country, and they also know that the People’s Republic have never shown any hesitation at action when it is in China’s interests to do so! The P.R.C. is possibly the ONLY country with enough muscle to get this megalo-maniac and his fellow-travelling circus to bend away from the nuclear lunacy which they seem hell-bent on heading towards at a great rate of speed, and it’s about time that China got acquainted with the gentle art of diplomacy, also known as Bullying!

Why should it always be America which has to act as the world’s policeman, when most of it’s own citizens don’t know where North Korea is, don’t want to know that they are waving missiles around like first-graders in a pencil shop; and for sure also don’t want to know that someone’s gotta’ step up to the plate and wave any size stick at these peak-capped weirdos with the very strange leader!

Set in a Silvered Sea

The American tradition of Thanksgiving is one which we British might do well to copy, in our own inimitable style of course. As we don’t have a single day upon which we can safely target and state, “This day is where we celebrate our deliverance,” and we don’t have the necessary majority in the four countries which make up this land of ours to choose one without upsetting some bloody pressure group, or Fuzzy-Wuzzy Council to placate or bow to, I propose that we choose one ourselves, place the votes purely in the hands of British people of White Anglo-Saxon European descent because that is who has formed the Britain of today, and shout out “to hell with everyone else, We will celebrate it because we wish to!”

I propose that the Fifteenth of August be chosen as “Spitfire Day”, and there should be parties, and bonfires, and lots of kids enjoying themselves, and lots more people getting drunk following another of the old traditions of Britain; but there should also be absolutely no official celebrations where bloody politicians might spout, preen and spread their cancer; no solemn events where the self-elected ‘great and good’ come together to pat themselves on the back; no formal happenings other that those which are initiated by anything larger than a parish council or village assembly. The Royal Family would be invited, as the one exception to the previous banning order! As the reader may guess, I harbour a deep and abiding distrust of politicians of whatever hue, and anything which springs from the gross foulings of any gathering which holds any political belief in reverence should be immediately outlawed from any involvement in Spitfire Day forthwith!

The Fifteenth of August should ring aloud in the collective memories of anyone who is of sixty years of age or older, as it was on the Fifteenth day of August 1940 that Adolf Hitler unleashed his ‘Adlertag’, Eagle Day; his airborne prelude to his invasion of Britain; and it was only at the conclusion of the “Battle of Britain” that Hitler turned his attention to Russia in the belief that Britain depended upon Russia for material support, in the mistaken belief that the British Empire would shrivel on the vine of the Western shores of a Nazi-dominated Europe.

We should therefore collectively celebrate our deliverance from the foul stench which emanated from the old Germany, and when the British celebrate “Spitfire Day”, we should remember from whence we came, and where and when we stood in, to use the phrase of another British soul, “This Sceptred Isle”!

Never forget! Never surrender! Repeat after me; “Kill the bastards!”

Israel March 2002

Indonesia October 2002

Moscow October 2002

Casablanca May 2003

Riyadh May 2003

Istanbul November 2003

Madrid March 2004

Beslan Russia September 2004

London July 2005

There may be many reasons why this disparate group of cities, towns and countries might be grouped together, but only one which has a common thread; that thread is the belief of fanatical idiots who ‘know’ that they know best, and that they are acting in support of a religion which preaches death and destruction to ALL others; and that they accept that their death will result in their martyrdom!

Well, sorry about that, Mohammed! As we throw you down to be buried with the pig swill, we’d just like to say, “Boy, were you ever wrong about that!”

Tell me the same old story; tell me the same old LIES!!!!!

When I was a younger man, if a senior politician was caught out either in a personal problem, such as an affair, or worse, homosexuality; they resigned! Flat out; just like that! Why, because if they didn’t resign, they’d be kicked out without so much as a moment’s hesitation by their boss, the Prime Minister; of whatever Party was in power! They’d been found wanting, and that was sufficient!So here we have the Deputy Prime Minister, who now has so many strikes against his nameplate that it’s beginning to look a little crowded in there, and what happens? Nowt! Why?The problems started because of who he is, a big thug with impeccable Union connections; a time-server of the first water who managed to find a safe Labour seat in Hull, and nobody’s been able to turf him out ever since he squirmed and greased his way past the selection board! He got elected Deputy as a reward for delivering Blair to his seat at the top, and our Tony’s not one to forget his friends, even if they are as useless as Prescott obviously is! He weaselled his way towards the second level of Government because he’s always been assiduous in keeping the power he’s been allowed to grab, and he’s always managed to keep the internal war between Brown and Blair mainly below the parapet!

So he was found out as having dipped into the office ink with his diary secretary, with sufficient prurient details, provided by the woman in question, to lever out any normal Minister within fifty seconds! But no, he stays on, keeping his place, jobs and staff! But then there’s a re-shuffle after Charles Clarke gets the boot, and he loses all his staff and jobs; but he still keeps his big house, plus his big apartment, plus his other flat, plus his two cars, plus his inflated salary! Then he gets photographed playing “CROQUET”, obviously a truly democratic and working-class sport if ever there was one; and loses his house to keep things quiet! Then the news gets broken that he went on a trip to America, and accepted massive hospitality from this super-rich American who is heavily into casinos. Now this guy was not focused on the success of the business, rather, he appeared to be more concerned with personal goals; so is into really-right wing politics, he was once named “greediest executive in America” by Forbes magazine, the US business bible. Prescott further visits him seven more times; but states that he was discussing “William Wilberforce” the old time legislator who helped outlaw slavery, and, wait for it, COWBOYS! Now many things I would believe, but a NuLabour ‘Cowboy’ learning about ‘cowboys’ from a super-rich billionaire whose only writ is profit is just a little rich, even coming from Prescott! Then other bloggers get wind of more women in Big John’s life, and he has to step up and state that it was just another blip on the radar horizon of life!

The question surely must be asked; how many more things have to be publicised before Blair finally breaks, and gets rid of this big, lying, philandering, seemingly-corrupt fraud?

Don’t disturb the kitten!

Visited that excellent blog EU referendum, and read a ‘think-piece’ on the author’s views of British Politics, politicians and political thought in this benighted country of ours. Now the writer, Richard North, seems to believe that most thinking Britons have successfully found the ‘off-switch’ after the trauma of the World Cup, the BlaenauGwent and Bromley and Chislehurst by-elections which proved to be a treble-yawn for most of the electorate, especially the Labour vote in Wales, and the Tories in Bromley and Chislehurst!

The election of David Cameron as the latest contender for ‘Twirly of the Year’ seems to have brought about a sea-change for the Conservative Party, but is looking to me at least as though the rough seas are ahead, not behind. Where are the attacks on this atrocious Government? Where are the fierce denunciations which should be coming from the Opposition  benches on bogus asylum-seekers, on crime, on the hopeless mish-mash which is the Home Office or the D.E.F.R.A. catastrophe which is the Rural Payments Agency.

 All we seem to hear is sound-bites of how environmentally-friendly Cameron is, with his house tied to a windmill power station, and riding bicycles, and denying masturbating whilst thinking of Margaret Thatcher. Why don’t we hear something we want to hear about, such as kicking the asylum-seekers and jihadists out of this once quiet, green and pleasant land? Why don’t we hear of plans to expand the prison system, and so be able to keep a few more thugs and rapists behinnd bars for the pitifully-few months they seem to get as sentences these days! Why don’t we hear of plans to chop the basic rates of tax, and some, if not all, of the stealth-taxes brought in by the Hound from Hell, otherwise known as Gordon Brown?

 Let’s hear a bit of hard-line right-wing themes from this wishy-washy lot, and then we just might see some voters wake up and commence taking a little notice of Her Majesty’s Official Opposition!

Is this a Screwdriver I see before Me?

Had a call from my eldest brother a year or so back regarding a power shower pump which I installed in his home about fifteen years ago. He was moaning on about how it didn’t work, and there was just this noise from, quote “The round thing” which of course was the pump motor, and what should he be doing? He is functionally mechanically illiterate! This is a quirk of nature in mankind which should, I believe, be the subject of an intellectual study, funded by Government, to establish once and for all why large proportions of the male British population are so thick when it comes to anything mechanical, or electrical for that matter!

I once worked on a construction site in London as part of the Engineering team, and after spending all night on site, had a shower in the site office bathroom to clean up before getting back into my office. Now the team was comprised of seven civil engineers, two civil technicians and myself, trained in the dark arts of electrical and mechanical engineering, so there wasn’t a shortage of actual mental capacity or intellect on site! As I said, when I got under the shower, I found I had to twist around and shuffle about to actually get any water to flow over my body, as the head was almost totally clogged with limescale, and the jets went everywhere but down! Wrapped a towel around my body, located a scrubbing brush and cleaned the shower head, taking a total of about forty seconds to produce the desired effect, which was a firm directed spray of hot water. When my boss, who himself was a senior civil engineer, had a shower later, he asked me what I had done to, I quote, “fix the shower as quickly as that?” Now this is a man who was part of the Channel Tunnel supervisory team, and a good theoretical engineer, but just didn’t understand that everything requires routine maintenance! Returning to my eldest brother, his exploits in the world of D.I.Y. are legendary in our family; such as the proud boast that he had changed the batteries in his doorbell, and it only took him two hours! The first job he took when in London was that of a cost clerk in a garage. They had him in the workshop, supposedly to get him up to speed with the jobs and terminology of car servicing, but this collapsed when it took him three hours to work out how to operate a pair of vise-grips! After trying for about three hours, he and his best mate could not succeed in setting up his video-recorder, a job which I completed in ten minutes flat! Once I repaired his electric fire, renewing the element and replaced the chrome cover; total time for job was around fifteen minutes. He said that he had done it before, and he couldn’t understand why he had taken four hours! He had been living in his house for ten years before I got his downstairs radiator to heat up correctly, a job which took all of fifteen minutes, by balancing the other radiators on the system. My other brother loaned him a car, and he took four hours, plus the amalgamated attention of twelve sets of neighbours, before failing to attach the supplied steering-wheel locking device! His finest utterance was on the subject of wine; he had been persuaded to buy a different brand of booze at the supermarket, and he had tried to get the cork out of the bottle for twenty-seven minutes before learning that the bottle had a screw-top!He is family, and despite our well-known disputes about politics, we get along fairly well, but even he admits that it does annoy him a little when I have hysterics at the very idea of my eldest brother lifting a screwdriver!