The Deafening Silence!

Having watched as the dust settled over the Hez’Ballah rocket craters, the mine damage and the Israeli air bombing, I wonder if anyone has noticed the truly strange and wondrous silence from most areas of the print and television media over the single biggest scandal within that same area of news and comment? I refer to the digital altering of photographs of dead and wounded resulting from the carnage in Lebanon. I refer to the stage-managed video footage, (which was worthy of at least three Oscars, or an Emmy, where dead or badly injured (or presumed dead or injured) victims were ferried out of the place where they had been trapped, and placed in ambulances. Now what, you might ask, is wrong in the television and print photographers filming this activity. It is wholly wrong if the entire action sequences were stage-managed by Hez’Ballah overseers; it is criminal if these photos and videos were presented to a watching world as fact, rather than stage-managed fiction. I am not for one second claiming that these people, both young and adult, had not been killed or injured.No, what I am stating is that their presumed recovery, rescue and deliverance was brilliantly orchestrated by a well-organised and co-ordinated group of Hez’Ballah terrorists to further their own ends of negative publicity towards the actions of the Israeli armed forces! The first instance documented was when Reuters sent out a ‘Kill’ notice on a previously authorised photograph taken by an Arabic stringer named Adnan Hajji, as they had decided that he had ‘Photoshopped’ the image of smoke rising over Beirut so as to make it more extensive and hence dramatic! Further instances of ‘Arab Photography’ followed with the addition of extra rocket exhaust trails from an Israeli jet. Unfortunately, the changes failed to fool observers, as the trails in question were from flares fired by the same fighter jet in self-protection against standard surface-to-air missiles! The long and tortured saga of “Green Helmet” started to surface in the immediate aftermath of the bombing of Qana. The first photographs, of a ‘rescue worker’ complete with anguished features, holding the body of a small child aloft were published to a waiting world, all to eager to believe that those dastardly Israelis were behind this new evidence of slaughter and carnage! Unfortunately, the off-screen directors got a little bit too enthusiastic with the ‘reality’ bit, and the truth started to leak out; the truth being that there weren’t quite as many dead as was first advertised in ‘Hiz’Ballahgate’, and those that were dead had been dug up and then re-buried for the cameras!

Can you hear that strange noise? That’s just a few cats being let out of a few bags! Nothing to worry about! All is well! Trust us; we’re television and print reporters, producers and directors!

We only bring you the TRUTH!

A Prophet without honour in his own country!

Made a comment upon another blog, within which I wrote about the impact upon Britain, in a truly depressing and negative way, of a single speech given by one of the great Englishmen of the last Century. I refer of course to the Right Honourable John Enoch Powell, M.B.E., and the speech in question was his famous Tiber foaming with blood” speech, which the press re-named the “Rivers of Blood” speech. It was vilified, as was the speaker; he was cast out from the Shadow Cabinet by Edward Heath, who long had disliked him (mainly for being far cleverer than Heath, which wasn’t difficult to achieve) and, as he was totally smeared with the ‘Racist’ tally, never regained the support which his views should have achieved.

He commenced his speech with these words:- “It is the supreme function of statesmanship to provide against preventable evils.”

His speech, while discussing the presumed effects of the Race Relations Act, included these words:-

“Here is the means of showing that the immigrant communities can organise to consolidate their members, to agitate and campaign against their fellow citizens, and to overawe and dominate the rest with the legal weapons which the ignorant and the ill-informed have provided. As I look ahead, I am filled with foreboding. Like the Roman, I seem to see ‘the River Tiber foaming with much blood’. That tragic and intractable phenomenon which we watch with horror on the other side of the Atlantic but which there is interwoven with the history and existence of the States itself, is coming upon us here by our own volition and our own neglect. Indeed, it has all but come. In numerical terms, it will be of American proportions long before the end of the century. Only resolute and urgent action will avert it even now. Whether there will be the public will to demand and obtain that action, I do not know. All I know is that to see, and not to speak, would be the great betrayal.”

– can now be seen to be more than prophetic, the warnings have all come true! We see the Race Relations Law, and the execrable Council for Racial Relations which swings a broad blade sharpened by this same law, in the forefront of actions designed to minimise and belittle any free-thinking Englishman who dares to stand up and shout out, “enough is enough!” We see the imams and agitators of their slimy religion given virtual ‘carte blanche’ to say what they will, and only when severe pressure is brought to bear are they even cautioned, warned or, eventually arrested! We see the very British Foreign Office give shelter and preference to a known islamic agitator and supporter of violent acts, so what hope is there for ordinary people to make a difference? We see whole sectors of our towns and cities taken over by the brown and black avalanches, we hear the foreign sounds of mullahs calling out their heathen wails over Bradford and Birmingham, and we pay for tickets to ride the ‘Banana Boat’, otherwise known as the bus into Ealing! The ‘Multiculturalists’ have minor orgasms when talking about how the differing ‘cultures’ allow for diversification and growth, when all we see are the drug killings of the Jamaican ‘yardies’ and their ilk; we view the ghettoes of the muslims from Pakistan and Bangladesh, who themselves hardly ever see a white face; we see the pyjama-suited ‘Communities’ which are given money, and political muscle, to help keep the bastards quiet, we see the ‘no-go’ areas where the police tread very softly, if at all, and we certainly don’t see police search dogs in a bloody mosque, for fear of upsetting the congregation!

Look, up there, that’s a flying pig!

Found some notes which I made about a final three minute slot on the BBC ‘Today’ programme a year ago, and found myself once more worrying about my blood pressure and nominal stress levels. Now the average reader may wonder why a single radio slot, developed around a reminiscence collection of broadcasts about the end of the war against Japan, including the use of atomic weapons for the first time; would annoy a sixty-four year old man so much that he was forced to worry about the effects on his health!
In attempting to answer this question, which of course is worrying the entire nation, glued as it no doubt is to the doings of a British Geordie; I would like to discuss a couple of things: firstly the editorial and production policies of the BBC. Here we have an organisation which is supposed to be impartial, with scrupulous regard to it’s Charter, but whose broadcast comment and opinion output, time and time again, leans towards the left in terms of approval and content, whose very editors and broadcasters, consciously or subconsciously, spew out the standard crap so beloved of the average Guardian reader, liberal, soft-left, multi-cultural approving, anti-right wing thought and belief; the list goes on!Next we turn to the choice of commentator chosen to respond to the BBC’s queries and commentaries.
In the case in question, that morning’s broadcast, they haul back Robert McNamara from wherever he has been interred for the past few years, and ask him carefully slanted questions about actions and orders given sixty years ago, and when he discloses the standardised rubbish about how things done were so unnecessary, and brutal, and all done because the American’s giving the orders didn’t care about anything bar trying out their new device, and how they wanted to just kill people!
The broadcast slot then turned to the statements, thoughts and actions of General Curtis LeMay, a U.S. Airforce General given the awesome responsibility of conducting the air war against the Japanese mainland; who was already aware of the levels of fanaticism endemic within the Japanese military structure; as his country’s ships were already being attacked by suicide-bent pilots in aircraft named ‘Kamikaze’. McNamara contemptuously referred to this fine officer as ‘Dr. Strangelove’, implying he was either mad, or just married to his own methods of mass destruction!
We were due to be treated (if that is the correct term) to another two days of this left-wing propaganda exercise, leading up to the date upon which the first nuclear weapon was deployed. No doubt there will be many wringing of hands, and many voices declaring that the Japanese were ready, in fact eager to surrender, and how the nasty United States went ahead and dropped both bombs because they wished to visit nuclear hell upon the perpetrators of the Pearl Harbour attack!Don’t these clowns know history? Do they not know that, despite Lemay’s fire bomb raids over Tokyo, the Allied planners of the Japanese mainland invasion were indicating that up to one million allied casualties were envisaged before the surrender of Japan? Do they not know that President Truman was actively canvassed by sixty scientists claiming that the bombing of Japan was unnecessary, and that he had to make the awesome decision whether to risk the lives of up to a million allied servicemen in an invasion, or use the bombs and kill maybe two hundred thousand of the enemy? Truman chose well, and the world is a better place for his decision!The B.B.C. should be ashamed of it’s slanted broadcasts, and should state so, but are we ever likely to hear and see such an apology? No bloody way!!!

I was reminded of this by another slot on the ‘Today’ programme, but this time it was about the memorial to be unveiled at Lincoln cathedral in honour of the men and women of Bomber Command who died during the Second World War. The truth that this arm of the wartime fighting services has long been besmirched because of one bombing raid, that of the attack over Dresden during February 1945.

55,000 died in the service of Great Britain while serving in Bomber Command, and not a single medal has been awarded to any member of Bomber Command because of some liberal queasiness over a bunch of nazis who got scorched
during a war fought some sixty years ago! And don’t anyone attempt to tell me that the Ordinary Germans weren’t Nazis! Just check out the faces on the
audiences at Nuremberg, or the rallies in Berlin and Munich!

You put your right foot in, right foot out……..

Read an book named ‘An Old Captivity’ authored by Nevil Shute, which featured a story about Viking raiders who discovered North America, and was reminded about the time around 875 AD., somewhere loosely near Whitby on the coast of Yorkshire, when around the headland glided one of the infamous Viking longships, sail set taut and fully aloft, the crew of fierce warriors easily hauling on their oars as they propelled the longship onwards; the polished metal of the shields on the sides of the ship glistened in the sun, and the rhythm of the oarsmen only slowed as the boat slid to a gliding halt on the shingle beach. The raiders leapt over the gunwales of the craft into the water before running ashore in a disciplined race to end up in a perfect defence line facing their leader, an imposing figure in a feathered cloak!

Before the long ship had halted on the shore, a second longship appeared around the headland, heading for the shore as the first; the shields were bright, but not as polished as the leader’s, and the rigging and rowing was workmanlike, but not to the same standard as again, the leader! They also rowed and sailed ashore, climbed swiftly off the long ship, and marched to form up at right-angles to the first contingent at the Norse equivalent of Parade Rest!

While the second crew were disembarking, a third longship appeared around the headland, but this one sported a patched and loose mainsail, the oars were manned and moved as though every movement was a burden, the shields were tarnished and spattered with salt and blood, the longswords were nicked and dull! The vessel grounded with a sigh instead of a crunch, and the warriors fell over the sides and stumbled ashore, to line up with their comrades from ships one and two!

Once all had gathered, they all raised their swords, and called out, as one, “Hail Odin” before the cloaked leader stepped forward, speaking in a clear baritone voice;

“Norse Warriors, once more we come to deal our punishment to those weaklings who are not Vikings! Vessel One; fire and the sword!!”

At this invocation, the first crew shouted as one, “Hail Odin!”

The leader spoke again, “Vessel Two; pillage and plunder!” and the second crew also shouted “Hail Odin”.

The leader started to say, “Vessel Three,” but was interrupted by the first in line from the third long ship, a man with deep-sunken cheeks and a wan, pale complexion, similar to the rest of his crew, as he exclaimed dully, “Not rape again!”

Flash….Liverpudlian searching for honest citizen is mugged; lantern stolen!!

I often see jokes and stories copied care of e-mail systems and other blog-sites, but I thought I’d share this particular treasure which comes courtesy of my daughter Alice, who besides being dead clever, has also a wicked sense of humour!

The Ferrari F1 team fired their entire pit crew yesterday.This announcement followed Ferrari’s decision to take advantage of the British government’s ‘Work for your Dole’ scheme and employ some Liverpudlian youngsters.

The decision to hire them was brought about by a recent documentary on how
unemployed youths from Toxteth were able to remove a set of wheels in less
than 6 seconds without proper equipment, whereas Ferrari’s existing crew
could only do it in 8 seconds with millions of pounds worth of high tech
equipment.It was thought to be an excellent, bold move by the Ferrari management team
as most races are won and lost in the pits, giving Ferrari an advantage over every other team. However, Ferrari got more than they bargained for!

At the crew’s first practice session, not only was the ‘Scouse’ pit crew able
to change all four wheels in under 6 seconds but, within 12 seconds, they
had re-sprayed, re-badged and sold the car to the Mclaren team for 8 cases
of Stella, a bag of weed and some photos of Coulthard’s bird in the shower!!

Just a single pea under the mattress!

Found a blog written by a survivor of the 7/7 London bombings, and from it read of a brilliant little stunt which is aimed squarely at our protest heritage, and the fact that we cannot protest spontaneously outside our Parliament without six days notice and permission from the local ‘fuzz’

What is required is for as many as possible to register for an INDIVIDUAL protest, and to register for this protest on 24th August at a designated police station, As the police have NO ALTERNATIVE  but to accept this registration, it is hoped that a VERY LARGE NUMBER of protesters will be able legally to assemble in Parliament Square on 31st August at 6.00 p.m. in order to protest, To protest about what?



“The Navy’s here!” and here, and here!

Whilst perusing my Saturday Telegraph, I came across a series of letters commenting on a decision by the Royal Navy to market it’s historic and unique ‘White Ensign’, the flag under which our illustrious Royal Navy has fought, died and conquered for the Sovereign and People of Great Britain.

About a year ago, I wrote, in another blog, a slightly whimsical piece to commemorate the death of our greatest Sailor, Admiral Lord Nelson, secure in the knowledge that I would be safe in any exaggeration which I might parody! Check out the reports within the Telegraph’s pages, and find out for yourselves if I was wrong! The exact piece is copied underneath:-

The following conversation is taken from records unavailable for many years after the tragic events of Trafalgar unfolded, but in the light of recent disclosures regarding certain sponsorship deals for the 200th anniversary of Trafalgar, it was deemed timely to reveal them at the present time!

The scene is Portsmouth Dockyard, in the shore offices occupied by Admiral Nelson and his staff, three months before the battle which decided the fate of modern Europe.

Hardy. “My Lord Admiral, good news from the teams out searching!”

Nelson “Searching, Hardy? Searching for what, exactly?”

Hardy “Why, for the extra sponsorship deals that we need to allow a fully-funded fleet to go out once more to search for the French fleet.”

Nelson “I do wish that the Government hadn’t saddled us with keeping all costs associated with the campaign outside the normal funds which have been voted by Parliament!”

Hardy “It was something to do with these new ideas you floated, if you will pardon the expression, My Lord, floated to keep apart the normal campaign expenditures by which we were funded for Copenhagen, the Nile and the blockades, from the your new ideas regarding fleet manoeuvres and tactics. The Admiralty felt that as such proposals such as abandoning the tried and trusted methods such as sticking rigidly to…”

Nelson “Ah yes, Hardy, I remember; they wanted me to agree not to break our line-ahead formation! A member of the Admiralty Board claimed that as I was using ideas which had been the result of these new-fangled discussion and focus groups, and thus bringing untested tactics to the Navy’s battles, they should be funded by private subscription instead of from Navy funds! Yes, I recall the talks. You said ‘good news’ Hardy?”

Hardy “Well, Sir, we have full agreement where the names of the donors can be painted in between each of the gunports, with such titles as “Cornwall’s gunpowder is the best!” and “From the Tudors onwards, Rutland’s Oaks have served England!”. We have almost completed all the negotiations with the major sponsor, but there is one detail outstanding. We need your approval to allow to be flown, immediately below your own flag and that of the Union Flag, all ships of the line should fly a third flag which states, “Only Blogg’s Ship’s Biscuits are good enough for Nelson!”

How to politically-correctly “Google”

Which is as good a commentary as one is likely to see about the supine attitude of the world’s largest and most powerful Search Engine!

So when the approximately 200-million-odd Chinese with computer and internet access wish to look for information, all sites commenting in ANY way about the policies of the Chinese Communist Party, and their truly lousy governance of the most populous country in the world are PERMANENTLY EXCLUDED FROM GOOGLE’S LISTINGS

Give me a fast ship, for I intend to go in harms way.

Chinese Navy in Hong Kong 

Been mainly laid low for about a week with a bad case of the ‘Lurgi’, so haven’t been interested in blogging, surfing or any other ‘ing’; as I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. While doing nothing much, I listened to the reports of the war against Israel by Hezbollah, and the stories from England about the Asian Pakistani morons who thought they might bring death to the skies over the atlantic, but my attention was caught by an interesting item about the enlargement of the Chinese Navy, and how it was seen as the first in a series of power moves to dominate and influence a huge part of the globe. Now while I tend to agree with much of what the commentator had to say about the huge expansion of the People’s Liberation Army Navy, (dead keen on their acronyms, P.L.A.N. these fiendishly clever Chinese!), I wondered if any of the listeners cared to think through the story to the background. Before the start of the Second World War, many industrialists within the huge circle of massive Western companies made fortunes from selling steel, coal and other raw materials to an ever-expanding Nazi Germany economy, supplying it with the very sinews upon which those same Germans made war so efficiently. The same industrialists made further huge fortunes from selling more steel, iron, coal etc. to the armies and navies of the Allies, who had banded together to defeat the evil stench of Nazi-ism which leached out from Berchtesgaden, Berlin and Munich.

So why the history lesson, the reader might ask? Simple, when you buy a cheap Chinese-made lighting fixture from Wal-Mart, or Asda, or B&Q; when you buy some Chinese-manufactured gloves costing, say, £17.50 when the home-made variety costs £30.00; when you outfit your new kitchen with clever devices which are stamped “Made in China”, you, dear reader, are helping to fund the building and training of one of the new super destroyers which will form the backbone of the P.L.A. Navy planning for the next decade. Perhaps you will have given some of YOUR hard-earned cash towards the purchase of another FRENCH helicopter, which, fitted with the appropriate GERMAN-designed torpedoes, will sit on the fantail of this new 35-knot destroyer as she heads out in convoys to test the resolve of an ageing American carrier fleet! The Chinese dictators, as they sip their tea in their luxurious conference rooms, must be silently splitting their sides with helpless laughter as they watch the Western urge to buy ‘cheaper’, help fund the ultimate onslaught, which will and can only be between America and China. The Achilles heel of Taiwan, which America has silently pledged to help at all costs, makes the United States uniquely vulnerable to an expanded Chinese Navy, where a unique experiment in democracy, sitting three hundred miles away from the slave labour camps emergent factories of industrial China, is threatened by a military who could roll over them in two days, but plan to do it in three!

As I have maybe stated before, the solution is in your own pockets. Buy from Korea, from Japan, from Slovakia or even from Sheffield, but never, ever, buy from the markets which are dominated by a single imperative, to bring the Chinese version of Communism back to the hosts who previously laboured under the boots of the Soviets, and on from them to the rest of the world!

Be very careful what you read, and how you read it!!

I was in Melbourne, Australia, half-way through my first trip to sea when I was a mere Twenty-one years old! I had the afternoon off, and was just wandering through down-town Melbourne, doing nothing in particular. I’d been to a lunchtime concert, and was just walking along, when I saw I was next to the Australian Blood Transfusion Headquarters. Now in those days, I carried the blood donor card. So up the steps I went, and registered to give the standard pint, nothing metricated in those days!

The hall where the cots, and thus where the prospective donors lay, during their task was quite large, with room for about fifty donors to be accommodated, plus about three rows of armchairs where the recovering blood donors would sit, drinking their tea and chewing their biscuits.

As I said, it was lunchtime, and the centre was nearly empty, with a full crew of doctors, nurses and technicians, but just two other people lying on the cots dripping their life-giving donations into the glass containers. I sat down, gave my details, walked back about four rows into the hall and lay down, and got the standard treatment of rubber strapped arm, the sealed needle into my vein, and then the connection made to the glass container. The nurse gave me the squeezy rubber ball, grinned and asked, “Okay?” I nodded and I was left to get on with the job.

Now in my own defence as to what ensued, I can only describe myself as preternaturally curious; so when I noticed that the ceiling tiles were all painted with little drawings and small poems, I set myself the task of discovering as many as I could read while lying there, with the blood slowly draining out of my veins in a good cause.

Now consider where I was, lying down, strapped to a glass jar; so my room to actually move was rather limited, so I read the tiles behind me, the ones to each side, and then the tiles in front; all as I lay on the cot! There was, however, one tile which was behind me, but on which the words of the little saying were, to my sightline, upside down. So I slowly edged my head around so I might decipher the words on the tile, but because it was just that little bit too far away, it was very difficult still to read. So, still determined to decode this troublesome poem, I wound my shoulder up a bit, and twisted my head around a bit further: and that was when three doctors and four nurses descended on me, convinced I was either dying, convulsing, or having a major heart attack!