A Developing Story

I hear there has been another fire in, as a former Blogger used to call “The Arsonists Playground”. The Constitutional Club is no more.

So far there is limited information as to why anyone would want to burn down the building, but reports suggest a striking similarity when describing a person fleeing the scene.

A short, fat, elderly person with thick glasses, demented hair and frightening dress sense was observed in Hawley Square clutching a box of matches and the charred remains of a trouser press.

The statements go on to describe the said person babbling hysterically to trees, stray dogs and a group of resident drunks who only survived the onslaught as they were almost comatose.

However, one of their group was not so fortunate and had to eat his own leg to escape with his life.

Although in shock and with chronic indigestion, the now one-legged drunk recalled the ranting was something about the benefits of concreting over Thanet parks and filling in a cave while posing for pictures with residents!

The investigation continues.

Hi risK STRATEGIES?

Now that I have swarms of Minions aware of my interest in exposing all things bullshit in Thanet. I find myself in receipt of interesting nuggets, or should I say steaming piles of the stuff for my perusal on an almost daily basis.

Following conversations with Caesar and Brutus, I know that as a breed, most politicians are pretty slimy when it comes to advancement up the greasy pole or a better position along the trough.  However, an outstanding candidate for recognition in plumbing new depths in this slippery game of musical chairs is a female member of the Thanet Labour Group named after a delicate flower. How ironic!

This particular flower is about as delicate as a Venus fly trap with an intellect to match. Her idea of subtlety is to sniff around the party faithful and anyone with influence in Thanet volunteering her services to talk people to death on their behalf.

Her technique is simple but deadly. She just keeps talking, shouting and screaming at her victims until they agree just to shut her up. Then she proceeds to bending the truth of any issue she's hired to support into impossible pretzels of delusional bullshit that can only convince the most adamant of morons!

Anyone watching her activities would think she is expecting the beautifully coiffed Leader Cllr Hart to suddenly retire following an accident with a trouser press, high explosives or while handling the plague virus!

Perhaps she is of the Hermodactylus variety? Yes, you will have to Google that!

It’s all a bit weird after she pledged her undying loyalty to said leader not so long ago when a "Northwood Nasty" was trying bore him (and us!) into submission (13 pages of bleating) to get a better position.

A desperate, high-profile campaign of taking credit for just about anything positive happening in Thanet has reduced most of us here in the underworld to hysterics, especially Nemesis!

Issues which aren’t even in her own ward and about which she has no understanding or influence are being touted as her single-handedly putting the world to rights.

Rumour has it she’s even having Spanish Lessons and is considering changing her name to Evita

She is in the Gazette as appeasing both Developers and Residents at EXACTLY the same time. This is bordering on the miraculous and a few of us are waiting to see if she’ll have a bash at parting the Wantsum channel for an encore before 5th May.

In the meantime, I suggest Cllr Hart wears a Kevlar vest when near the fly trap especially at functions where cutlery or trouser presses are nearby!


STOP PRESS:  I have been informed by Mr Turner (who is seriously pissed off) that she is now taking the credit for the original idea of a Gallery, the design of the building and all of the artwork!

Is there no end to this woman's talents?

ANOTHER STOP PRESS!  She is now taking the credit for the lovely weather that you dear mortals of the Isle are basking in.

Thanet Job Spot

Perusing the interweb thingy in my lair the other day, I happened upon the following adverts.

"Are you over 50, worried about impending redundancy, incapable of speaking in coherent sentences, have very limited intelligence, a grudge against the world, no accomplishments, no sense of humour and looking for a way to make a few quid by posturing but actually doing bugger all? Then the Liberal Democrats are the Party for you."

A later ad stated.

"Are you a balding moron, and totally unemployable? Do you run a failed website full of toxic delusions and desperate pleas for employment and funds. Are you a complete loser with delusions of grandeur and a desperate need to have your limited intellect massaged by fellow morons? Then the Liberal Democrats are for you."

I thought no more about them until I spotted what looked like Etonian Flaig! I couldn’t be sure as he looked about 20 years older than his blog photo and was standing next to a Pratt in a Hat trying very hard not to look like a berk and failing miserably. The article says they are the new future saviours of the world, so I see the above mentioned vacancies have been filled by the two most vacant bloggers in Thanet.

This whole thing has the acrid stench of bullshit and penury surrounding it. I notice Etonian's political launch has a nice Google advert next to it so he can raise a few shekels and I'm sure the Pratt in the Hat,(recently a Registered Labour Blogger!) will be advertising  enhancements to the male anatomy next to his party political fantasy too.

I'm sure the sudden urge to be of public service has nothing to do with being a bit skint?

Of course not,  LOL!

I Wish to Make a Complaint.......

I hear poor Mark Nottingham has become Thanet’s answer to Monty Python’s Parrott.

People of Northwood complained at his lack of activity only to be informed he was shagged out after long squawk on his weblog telling all of his greatness.

They were told he was resting when he wouldn’t return their calls.

He would be photographed by the Gazette in his beautiful red plumage.

When in Northwood, he would pine for the Lewisham frauds

Bereft of political life.

He's nearly an ex-Councillor.

He’s been shuffled off his political perch and joined the Committee Invisible

The only reason he would stay in a room in Northwood was because he was nailed to his chair by party activists!

Anyway, enough of the Python.

There have been huge amounts of self-righteous bullshitting surrounding the suspension of Cllr Mark Nottingham from the Labour Party.

In his thirteen page web rant, he lists a career which has never involved a real day’s work in nearly 30 years. Is this something to be proud of? Shows just how removed he is from real life!

The liberal bleeding hearts are queuing up to wring their hands with despair at his departure from the bossom of the Thanet Labour Group, like its going to make a difference to his life!

It’s not as if he's been made redundant and is going to be slung out on his arse like ordinary people are.

What makes me fall about laughing is the fact that Nottingham is still employed on the Brussels gravy train, completely funded by you the taxpayer. A nice gold-plated pension, and no financial worries while the rest of you poor mortals lie awake at night worrying about cash and bills etc, or how long you can keep your job.

He’s laughing his arse off.

And HE wants sympathy?

Absence Makes...

Hello dear minions. I gather I’ve been missed in the land of mortals and been criticised for my absence.

I’ve been very, very busy here in the nether world. It all started with us watching the Oxford & Cambridge boat race. Well done Oxford!

Anyway, Nelson pipes up and suggests we re enact the boat race on the river Styx for a laugh. All very well I hear you say, but I know from bitter experience exactly how these games can get completely out of hand.

Next thing I know, Nelson wants to re enact the battle of the Nile (doesn’t like Trafalgar!) This pisses off Augustus and Mark Anthony no end, who both want a re match of the battle of Actium.

It goes from bad to worse, Admiral Jellicoe is determined to put enormous ships all over the Styx to remember Jutland. Halsey and the Americans want to do Midway again but with nukes, and that complete nutter, Caligula wants to bung a bridge of boats over the whole thing and ride his horse back and forth singing “My Way” Frank was fuming!

Now bear in mind that none of these people had even been drinking, and you can imagine how difficult it is for me to maintain some semblance of order.

After some Air Force guys tried bombing Charon’s dock, I lost my temper completely. I set Cerberus on the Americans and let the Medusa turn all the other gits to stone until they promise to behave themselves.

Charon is having a lie down and smoking something with a very pungent aroma. At least he’s smiling, but I daren’t leave any food lying about or he’ll have it.

I’m going to have a nice holistic massage from Asclepius no less and then I shall return refreshed with pearls of wisdom..or not!

Secret Thanet Aristocrat Exposed

Following months of painstaking forensics, Margate blogger, Tony Flaig is exposed as an eccentric member of the British aristocracy.

On his blog, he is pictured wearing a Barbour, his face in profile, to conceal his true identity. However, facial analysis has revealed, that he is none other than ‘Lord Etonyan Flaig.’

His recent, working class, anti-hero wingeing was so nauseatingly done to death, it aroused the suspicions of the ‘Pseuds Investigation Surveillance Service.’ (PISS)

Extensive investigation of his Lordship proves he has never even been on a train (apart from the Orient Express) let alone worked near one and only travels around his Thanet fiefdom in a chauffeur driven Bentley.

He was educated at the family estate in the Cotswolds followed by Eton and Cambridge. So careful of his privacy, his Lordship has managed to keep the details of his education and degrees a State secret to this day.

There were rumours of unusual circumstances surrounding his succession to his title and seat in the House of Lords. He only became Lord Flaig following the accidental deaths of 16 of the prior claimants to the title. These were caused by a series of chance explosions involving household items including a Chippendale table. His Lordship was slightly injured by the well-publicised exploding Trouser Press incident of 1979, which proved fatal to other title claimants. As a consequence, Lord Flaig had to have his sense of humour surgically removed!

A prize of a State Funeral will be given to the minion who correctly identifies his Lordship from the picture!

Margate Caves Saved by Trees?

Again in the Gazette, another story caught my beady eye where the answer to the problems for two groups of people would be to swap their problems.

The residents of Broadstairs want to keep their trees in Pierremont Park and not have a Community Centre which would involve the chopping down of said trees. Some are even prepared to be chopped down with the trees such is the depth of feeling!

The residents of Margate want to open up their painted caves as a tourist and educational centre.

You can imagine the conversation from the guides:

“Hello and welcome to the Margate Caves, these are a series of holes under the ground”

“Yes and……?”

“Well, that’s it. It’s a series of holes under the ground”

“Do they do anything?”

“No”

I suggest the residents of Broadstairs give the £1.8 million they don’t want for the hated Community Centre to the group who want to restore the caves etc. They would be very delighted to get the cash, and any money left over could be used to provide a small buffet with some wine and tubes of Pringles.

The residents of Broadstairs could then use the caves as a not-very-local Community Centre, and as it is so close to my subterranean lair I could keep up with all the local gossip through the walls!

Problem solved and everybody would be happy

Mark Nottingham - Billy No Mates?

A minion passed me a copy of this week’s Isle of Thanet Gazette. He pointed out some breathtakingly good bullshit being passed off as a member of the public writing in to support his Councillor.

It looks like Mark Nottingham writing yet another “conspiracy theory” rant about how unfair life has been to him, especially as he is folically challenged.!

The hysterical thing is that he has signed it as his own Brother in law, Heath Woodward of Margate – Again!

How sad is that? He can’t get a mate or even a constituent to write in on his behalf. Especially ironic as he would have you believe he has been a tireless champion of the people in his ward.

My spies tell me he’s rarely been seen in Northwood, except when a Gazette photographer turns up! Then its quick photo and he buggers off to his mansion in Ramsgate for a bath in asses milk!

I’ve also been told he has been trying to change his name by deed poll to Des.

Why you may ask? Well dear mortals the answer is simple. Mark Nottingham was de-selected. When his name is changed, he will say it was all a typo and he is still the undisputed candidate for Northwood because the headline now reads:

“DES ELECTED!”

Sex, Lies and Celluloid

News has reached my sinewy ears of some bullshit on celluloid being touted as how you should live now, and wasn't everything better in 1955!

I popped across the Styx to do a bit of research and this is what the dead came up with:

In these supposed “good old days” when Thanet was the centre of the known universe and all were happy and fed with cream. There were the following dead flies at the bottom of the churn:

• Sexism. Women’s pay and conditions at work were crap compared to men doing the same or similar job; excluded from some professions
• Backstreet abortions. Words fail.
• Racism. The only way Obama could have got into the White House was if he was cleaning it!
• Colonialism. Quick lads, they don’t even wear suits and ties so nick their country!
• Homophobia. Gays could be arrested, imprisoned, sacked or just beaten to a pulp.
• Dangerous working conditions without any chance of making those responsible take responsibility. How many retired miners actually lived long enough to enjoy their retirement?
• Consumer rights and safety from drugs and dangerous products were pants. Anyone remember Thalidomide?
• Killer Smogs. Caused by using cheap, shit coal as our good coal was being exported to pay the bills.
• Animal were brutally treated in circuses and dirty zoos. Tiny cages and beatings to make them perform.

Etc, etc.

You can get old film from years ago of ANY part of the world to show the same thing. Clean, well dressed, happy, smiling, sun-kissed people, waving enthusiastically next to neat, well-kept parks, amusements or in stadiums without a hoodie in sight.

This technique was used extensively by a film maker called Leni Riefenstahl to make her particular point about how wonderful everything used to be, and could be again under a new administration.

The film was called “Triumph of The Will” and her “client” was Adolf Hitler with his smiling, new Nazi Party.!

Years later, this same bullshit technique is trying to fool people in the same bullshit way.

In some cases actually succeeding. WTF!

"Yesterday is gone.
Today is all you’ve got to work with.
Then it’s me and “game over!”

Decisions, Revisions and Hair

Ascending from the deepest levels of my sumptuous, subterranean lair to get the best from my new Digibox, I thought I’d update myself on the cesspool that is local politics.

My Minions inform me of an epic struggle for the soul of Thanet’s Labour Party now taking place in the darker corners of the Isle.

There has been much plotting and various ‘experts’ polluting the air with formation bullshitting and even advanced, multiple bullshitting.This rattles my scythe no end.

Anyway, mere mortals, stress not for I have reduced it all to a manageable pile.

1) Councillor pledges undying loyalty to leader.
2) Councillor sees opportunity to get snout further up trough.
3) Uses superior on-line leg-doing skills to try and stuff said leader.
4) Leader watches toys fly from pram.
5) Councillor goes batshit on weblog.
6) Local Hospital prepares rubber room.
7) Leader watches flying batshit.
8) Councillor launches fantasy website where pretends to have been doing great things in Thanet for the last four years!
9) Local Hospital makes up bed and gets restraints ready for rubber room.

I think the choice should be based on hair. Beware the follically challenged!

The Councillor’s hair looks like the cat’s been at it, and is, (like his grip on reality) receding fast.

The leader has a beautifully coiffed thick head of hair. What more do you want?

Sorted!

Turner Will...

So much bullshit flying around this edifice, it’s almost impossible, even for a being of my magnitude to unravel it.

I think, having spoken to Alexander and his mates, the Gordian Knot solution is the only way to go.

Most people think the Turner is arse or just don’t get it. But it’s the Turner or nothing. Not fair, I know, but neither is life, or death!

Trouble is, the publicity for Turner is pants. People think they’ll have to pay £40.00 to get in to see a pile of bricks or a sequinned, luminous jockstrap. They will then feel obliged to recognise how important and meaningful it all is to their otherwise bleak lives. They call that a fun day out?

The solution is simple. Promote it as the Will Turner Pirate Centre and get local lad Orlando Bloom to open it. I guarantee there will be ladies queuing round the block to get in and buy signed posters of Johhny Depp and keyring-sized sequinned, luminous jockstraps.

After all, it is next to the sea. The possibilities are endless and everyone will get it!

Wikio Dickio - The Truth

A minion has alerted me to a possible outbreak of bullshit on the normally solid Big News Margate over the subject of size.

Being immortal has its benefits, so I had a quick chat with Albert Einstein, an excitable bloke in a toga who kept talking about his screw and of course the schoolboy’s friend Pythagoras. I gave him a break from trying to bend the right-angle and showed him the numbers too.

The results are startling. Apparently they are inversely proportionate to the size of the blogger’s dick.

Thanet Coast with a score of  3221, when calculated, equates to an 11 inch dick. So those of you with even a basic grasp of pure mathematics can work out the relative size of the others in the list.

Doubtless Thanet Coast will be a big hit with the ladies and good luck to him!

So to my helpful minion, thank you, but this is not strictly bullshit, more an amusing mathematical/pornographic exercise for those with way too much time on their hands!

Trust Me I'm a Working Class Person - Honest Guv!

Bloody stroll-on-mate! The bullshit is flying thick and fast in Thanet today. My new hobby is in danger of becoming a full-time job! This is where being immortal and not needing to sleep has its advantages.

There is a new proposition before my minions and the people of Thanet.

I shall conduct this in a democratic way lest I be accused of bias.

Does a politician saying he is a life member of the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA) make him:

1) A man of the people?
2) A genuine Working Class person with a real job?
3) A manipulative bastard who thinks the electorate is stupid?
4) A patronising bastard who can only get a reference from his in-laws?
5) A compulsive liar who pretends to care about people?
6) A bastard?

Answers in the comments section and I’ll publish your verdict when it agrees with mine

By Popular Demand

Leaving my vast Gothic Pile and grounds to wander briefly in the night air among the common herd, I was startled to hear my name called by a mere mortal in the chip shop. His little round face, pink in the unforgiving fluorescent lighting, beamed at me in recognition. His crooked smile and sunken dark eyes creased with joy. The merciless lighting glinting off the bare patches of scalp where his hair was receding, almost made me feel sorry for him. But only almost!

“What do you seek of the Thanet Reaper?” I enquired.

“You have long held the moral high ground hereabouts” he fawned.

“Yes, get on with it”

“You alone can protect the lowly from the patronising bullshit that’s threatening to bury us all under the weight of its own self-righteousness”

“Bloody hell! I exclaimed. “For a mere mortal you are almost educated.”

Falling to his knees amid a startled group waiting for battered sausages, he continued, almost prophetically:

“Unpleasant treatment will be metered out to you O mighty Reaper for defending the downtrodden and underestimated people of Thanet. But you will be in a select group of those in Thanet that will stand up for what is right.”

“Stand up mere mortal. Your plea has been heard and the Thanet Reaper will act. Being Death is a bit predictable sometimes, so, as a hobby I will do as you request. I will take my scythe to the mound of bullshit and chuck it at all those who insult the intelligence of my minions”

Tears of joy streaked his little round face. The Staff and the battered sausage queue, overcome with awe, fell to their knees too. The fluorescent light flickered eerily. An omen perhaps?