British Bulldog

 

My first blog post of 2025! What took you so long? Well probably like many in Britain and America I have been like a punch drunk boxer. The other boxer being the news.

I thought I would introduce this post with a video purloined from You Tube. An American explaining the game of British Bulldogs. Elon Musk explaining to Britain how its democracy should be run. 

If you are of a certain age you will probably remember playing this game at school where there is a bulldog in the middle somebody like Nigel Farage say and then all the Brits run towards him hoping that they don't get tagged and turn into the Reform UK Ltd company leader. Those Brits might include Ben Habib, Paul Thorpe, Paz 49 and Richard Inman. Who? The tiny Tommy Robinson fan club. While this group of thugs run passed Niggels in the middle, he gets his coat tail pulled, his tie ruffled, his hair tousled. Just another playtime at Dulwich College for nine jobs Nigel.

Hang on, what's this? Somebody has just turned up wearing a stars and stripes bandana around his head and is jumping up and down and shouting 'All Right'. It is Mrs Trump herself Elon Musk, the owner and proprietor of the right wing propaganda outlet on which this blog post is going out.

Elon stands there with wads of cash in his hands and he is goading Nigel "Reform needs a new leader. You haven't got what it takes" 

Well this riles up old Nigel and who can be seen lumbering across like Frankenstein's monster but Lee Anderson. If anybody is a British bulldog it's our Lee. Rupert 'the bear' 'how low can you go' Lowe and Tricky Dicky Tice arm in arm with Isinhell Oakshott.

British politics has become so polarised since Nigel's Brexit dream turned into a nightmare but like the Kirby Vacuum Salesman that he is, he is selling, selling, selling the grift until he has no grift left to sell.

One good thing for the woke left who are in complete disarray is that the right are now having an internal tiff. Their hatred and othering of migrants has been turned on eachother and all because of that contemptuous of court Tommy Robinson. Yaxley Lennon is more snappy Jack Russell terrier than bulldog. He is a ratter who appears allegedly to have ingested so much of the stuff that flows down the sewers from the Houses of Parliament (cocaine and shit) that he appears permanently wired. His fight or flight response has fused and he is now fighting himself in solitary confinement.

Britain really needs to geographically split between those who voted for Brexit, the 52% Leave should go and live in Wales and the 48% Remain should go and live in East Anglia, Lincolnshire and the Wash. All the right wingers, save our statues, bomb the boats, I'm not racist but, anti-vaaxxers and anti Sadiq Khan's should go and live in Wales with the Leavers, and the Free Free Palestine Freedom Fighters should join the Remain group in East Anglia.

The British Bulldog in the middle is Darren Ferguson, Manager of Peterborough United who doesn't have to move very far. He can call on his Dad to give any body who deigns to cross the British median the hair dryer treatment and because in his own words 'we're not a charity case', this British Bulldog will make sure that there will be no family re-unions to be had across the dividing line of Britain.

Elon Musk jumping around on stage in front of Trump shouting USA reminded me of another ginger shouting "Well Allright' in Sheffield three decades ago. Neil Kinnock, the worst Prime Minister we never had. His bastard child Blair has decreed that too many people in Britain are self diagnosing with depression. He's right in my case and I am going to see if I can get a sick note from the GP so I can get out of playing British Bulldogs, a game which will go on ad infinitum until the woke left realise that it is a class war and not a culture war that we should be fighting whatever Mrs Trump says to the opposite regularly on Twitter.

Happy 2025 to you all and may it bring an end to the Israeli genocide of Palestine.      

 

Spiritual Explosion 💥 #spiritualawakening

Gone to spend a penny!

https://grammarist.com/idiom/spend-a-penny/

 This pretend poet is going to pen some prose

that is going to grow longer than his nose.

It is now 50p to spend a penny in the Lake District

I shudder to think how much in a London precinct

I suppose that because we spend so much money on food

that Community Councils have to catch the mood.

They are charging for the air for your tyres,

charging tourists to look round the spires.  

"While you're reading what I've put

you might be peeing on your foot"

"I don't come to think and wonder

I just come to shit like thunder"

were yesterday's scrawls on the toilet stalls

now it's a hole in the wall and a phone number.

Queen Victoria would have been amused at her subjects

fumbling for a bank card to fund her Empire Wars.

"I only want a penny to spread our culture abroad"

"Well tough titty m'lady"

There's so much effluence in the public domain

finding benefit money to pay for a poo is really a pain.

We need to bring back 'Pieces of Eight' 

to deal with these modern day pirates.

They'll be charging us to walk and to sleep 

access to nature will be as chargeable

as the lithium battery on your electric car,

you'll be charged for drinking your craft beer at the bar. 

If anything now is still free,

humans will find a way to make you pay for it, you'll see. 

We think that we own the planet and everything upon it.

every living breathing entity is a commodity

that has to be used to boost the economy.

If we didn't think we could own people

there wouldn't have been slavery.

The higher, crueller castes would have you in penury.

I don't get out much

and now I know why

because the powers that be want you to pay for the sky

"But it's up there, I can see it from here"

"There must be a mistake because you haven't paid Sir" 

We are not allowed to just exist, to just be

We are judged as a human being on our productivity 

Well "balls to that" I'm not going to spend a penny.

Neither in work nor looking for employment

"Hi I am Daf Williams and I am economically inactive."

I feel that I am in some kind of group therapy where I have to admit my addiction. I am neither in work nor looking for employment. According to government and some members of society I am a social pariah. I prefer the term socialist pariah. 

The pompous accents of Radio 4's 'Today' programme inform us on the hour that the new Labour government under the tutelage of Sir Keir Starmer are going to get to grips with the bulging benefits bill.

He might as well offer courses in 'Herding Cats'

The big stick is brought out of the Prime Minister's cupboard and handed to Liz Kendall. Her minion, Alison McGovern is given the carrot to place back in the rabbit's cage. No more carrots for you, the sick, the unemployable, the heavily diagnosed and labelled, the heavily medicated, the mentally ill, the psychologically unwell, the school leaver, the home schooled, the high school dropout and the disabled. No more carrots!

It's bloody big stick all the way. You will work and you will like it and even if you actively dislike it, tough titty. This is your lot now from age 18-67 you will go to work at 9am and you will return at 5pm. You will have half an hour for bread and jam and water during the day and you will have weekends off because the Trades Union movement have already won that right for you. We don't fanny about with flexi time and appropriate allowance for bereavement and desperation and depression. We expect you at your work terminal despite the vagaries of 'normal human experience' and in return you will receive a brown envelope with just about an existing wage in return for sacrificing your life at the altar of the Protestant work ethic. 

We wont be hiring though because the Government have upped the hike in National Insurance payments so we'll have to pay more for you.

The new, improved Job Centres are to be there for the employer even though currently only 1 in 6 employers use the thronging mass of humanity that enters their heavily secured doors.  

If you consider yourself disabled then the mood music currently is, "we are going to bump you off because you are not productive" even though the assisted dying bill will not affect anybody bar the terminally ill with less than 6 months to live the emotive hyperbole around the subject is that it is eugenics writ small and the Department of Work and Pensions want to get rid of those who keep fingering the bulge of the bulging benefits bill. 

I've had my quota of taxpayer's  money over the years but not any more. In fact I am paying them back via Liz Kendall at the rate of £67.00 a month because they took me to court for the overpayment (in their eyes) of Universal Credit. 

Despite the fact that I am not receiving benefit, not in work, nor looking for employment I continue to turn up to my laptop every morning for a day's You Tube & Twitter. These are my weapons of mass distraction and I have not met one person in work or socially that have given me as much pleasure as these two social media. 

I shall continue to raid piggy banks and look for cash down the back of the sofa to pay my internet bill because the world of work is too peopley and with the kind of mind that I have, the combination of the wrong people, the wrong kind of work and stress will kill me or send me to prison like it did before.

So no amount of pompous voices on Radio 4 are going to drag me back out there to contribute to a treasury that supplies ammunition and bombs for Israelis to commit genocide in Palestine.

I am old but feel for the school leaver, the neatly named 'Not in Employment, Education or Training'

With the ADHD medicine, Xaggitin in short supply, the school teacher's role of herding cats has been transferred to the work coach. One size fits all did not suit anybody in my day on the Youth Opportunities Programme or the Youth Training Schemes and whatever Liz Kendall or Sir Keir decide to do with the new improved Job Centres nothing will change until work and employment are put under the forensic microscope and it be decided that people should be allowed more leisure time or a 3 or 4 day working week with an emphasis on paid community and voluntary service. 

Put the big stick back in the cupboard Labour and get the carrots out!         

The Love Grenade

 

Sinead

threw a grenade

down the esplanade.

It was no ordinary, common and garden

explosive device this,

when it landed it showered everyone with bliss.

The miserable old man forgot his stereotype and smiled

The pesky kids were no longer that but assertive.

Older lads with hoods were viewed with warmth not suspicion

their scooters handed back to them with erudition.

Even the Special Constables had to admit that they weren’t all that.

“Where did you get that from Sinead?” Donna enquired

“Look within dear heart” Sinead replied

Jet Propelled Assisted Dying.

If anbody reading this knows Benjamin Netanyahu could you ask him when the Zionist death cult is going to stop? Why? Because we in the West want a guilt free Christmas. Don't forget that God's emissary to the UK Cardinal Vinnie Nichols has imbued the assisted dying debate with his religion's guilt

He said changing the law could result in those who are near to death feeling under pressure to end their lives to relieve family members of a “perceived burden of care”, to avoid pain or “for the sake of inheritance”.

The archbishop of Westminster continued: “The suffering of a human being is not meaningless. It does not destroy that dignity. It is an intrinsic part of our human journey, a journey embraced by the eternal word of God, Christ Jesus himself. He brings our humanity to its full glory precisely through the gateway of suffering and death.”

I write this blog post as someone whose own mother pleaded with me to fetch a gun and put her out of her misery. I made a joke of it as I always do and I said "Mam, if it was legal I would". I'm writing this in the very room that she died and a photograph of her as a nurse in the fledgling National Health Service is looking down on me as I do.  

She nursed Sir Frank Whittle after he was knighted by George VI in 1948. A statue of whome I came across on my visit to Coventry recently.

She had long been an advocate of assisted dying long before her own death in extreme agony in 2021 and she had made it clear that she wanted to go to Switzerland if an agonising death became likely for her. She was in an orthopaedic bed that required electricity to keep the mattress pumped up and we were told that when it was installed that it would cost pennies to run. Instead it cost thousands when we received the bill from the Utility Company after Mam died.

It wasn't the cost but the ignominy and agony in which my mother died. On the Wednesday before she died there was a power cut and in darkness her cries of anguish and pain became louder as the orthopaedic bed sank lower and lower underneath her until it became flat. The nursing team looked on, as helpless, as we all are when we watch the daily grizly footage from Gaza and Lebanon. 

It took an hour an a half for a generator to come out from Scottish Power and in that time 'Dr Death' had been called for from the local hospital to administer the fateful dose. A dose which put Mam out of her agony but which took 3 days with the aid of a syringe driver to kill her off on the following Saturday Morning. 

Every time I have to pay a utility bill now I wince because these people are never there when you need them but when it comes to paying your bill the bailiff will be shouting through your letterbox before you've had time to check your bank balance.

I would like to see Cardinal Vinnie Nichols in a boxing ring with Dame Esther Rantzen and I hope that Esther Rantzen punches him so hard that he sees bluebirds and the pearly gates and the faces of the people who can't wait to pounce on his inheritance.

The inheritance of religion as we can see from Palestine and Lebanon is inhumanity.  

As Dame Esther used to say "That's Life" but what about a dignified death?

https://sharkfishinginwales.blogspot.com/2021/05/in-sympathy.html

The Crab with the Golden Balls 🦀