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?