Friday, 30 April 2010

Brown/Clegg/Fat Daft Racist (Folded/Crumpled) = Wonderful

Rich White (artist extraordinaire) has been working very hard, in the name of fairness and political correctness gone mad, to add the other leaders (and a fat, daft racist) to the world of Macaroon.

Here they all are, please enjoy and have a very fine Bank Holiday weekend. I know I am...

Thursday, 29 April 2010

What I've Been Up To...

Me, in character, in some woods in Bristol being absolutely scared out of my wits by dried ice, owls and a very powerful imagination

Visited Aardman Animations in Bristol, met my one of my personal heroes: Frank the Tortoise and a smashing bloke called Jim

Tuesday, 27 April 2010

Crime in South Africa

Following on from my recent raft of posts on South Africa, I'd thought I'd offer one more, with some thoughts on crime in South Africa.

As the World Cup approaches at a pace and the world's largest sporting event arrives in Africa, it brings with it an infernal and clumsy media spotlight, seeking soundbites, summations and easy cliche. There is no doubt that crime in South Africa is one of the basic lenses that the country is viewed through, with over-eager, spittle-flecked pointing to the terrible murder rate (2nd worst in the world with 0.49 murders per 1,000 people; compare the UK at 0.014 per 1,000), top of the per capita rape league and 10th in the world league of crime (below the UK and US though...).

The crime problem in South Africa is fed on by racists as an example of blacks being incapable of looking after themselves and that Apartheid should be brought back as speedily as possible, plus, the successes of a majority rule South Africa are actually down to the white folks that used to rule the roost...happily ignoring their hypocrisy that the current crime problem can only be a result of ineffectual black leadership. Typical racist cherry picking.

The truth is far more complex than that, as anyone with a modicum of intelligence will understand, what follows is a very brief summation.

The key factor, as it is with all crime, is poverty. The gap between the haves and have-nots, inadequate educational resources, the desperation of existence in poverty making acts of crime acts of survival, the acts of those with nothing to lose. What compounds this though is that Apartheid was an exceptional device of social engineering, a device of such repressive power, of such brutality and violence; that it kept this key factor in check. It did so with barbarity but also with institutionalised repression and psychological degradation of non-whites. It divided and ruled between Africans and Coloureds, keeping the majority oppressed and turned in on itself.

So imagine what occurred when that evil, repressive device was removed?

Now add to that the police and judiciary needing a total overhaul, from a racist weapon of the state, to a trusted and essential part of the new democracy. Now add to this a new found ability to accurately report crime and people turning to the police and the judiciary for support, so crime, previously hidden, starts to spike. Now add to this a nation free of previous racial barriers and a wider access to modern goods and trappings of success, which always encourages acts of crime.

Now compact these key factors into a country in transition from what it was, to what it could be and you are going some way to explain the high levels of crime that blight South Africa.

If these are the overarching causes then are two more elements I want to touch on, one a by-product of the hegemony and the other, more controversial.

Crime breeds crime, so in a crime epidemic it begins to seep into elements of society that it would not normally. South Africa suffers from this particularly badly with high population density in its urban conurbations, so much so that crime is no longer really isolated to certain areas but has a wide spread (although let us be clear, the main victims of crime are still the poor). It is harder to resist becoming involved in criminal activity the more your community turns to it and with such a  high unemployment rate and the clamour of poverty, you have a perfect breeding ground for spiralling, self-perpetuating crime.

The final insight into South Africa's high crime levels is a controversial one and is posited by Antony Altbeker in his excellent book: "A Country At War With Itself".

To paraphrase, he believes that South Africa has become inherently violent, that South Africans are, both as an outcome of Apartheid but also the ensuing crime wave, transforming into people with a greater willingness to be criminal, to be violent, to take matters to extreme ends.

It is if via exposure to brutality, tolerance has hardened and bred altered social mores and values.

I find this hypothesis interesting, if not a little worrying and most definitely very upsetting; it brings to mind an image of the entire nation of South Africa as damaged individuals and that Apartheid has so much more to answer for as a recurrent and perhaps eternal abuser.

Monday, 26 April 2010

Coloured Souls

Following on from my post at the arse end of last week, I thought I'd briefly touch on the role and place of Coloured people in South Africa as I see it.

During the horrors of Apartheid Coloureds were used as a buffer between Whites and Africans, indeed modern demographic data of areas of South Africa with large Coloured populations shows Whites towards the centre of urban conurbation's, then Coloureds with Africans on the very outskirts. Even though Apartheid has been over for some time, it has taken far longer for the damaging impacts of racist social engineering to work themselves out and the Coloured community has suffered far greater upheaval since the end of Apartheid.

During Apartheid Coloureds were seen, perhaps obviously as they literally were, the bastard children of the Whites, not racially pure of course but because of their origins closer to Whites in terms of genetic make-up than the Africans. The Whites adopted a staunchly patriarchal and protective attitude of the fatally flawed Coloured, the living embodiment of the mark of Cain in modern Africa, their bastardised and brutal offspring.

This actually meant that Coloured families were in a far better position than African ones in Apartheid South Africa, albeit patronised and demonised, treated as if some mentally retarded and behaviourally dysfunctional family member that must be looked after at all costs.

But upon the collapse of Apartheid, the network of support, benefits, social engineering and protectionism ended and Coloureds were left as equals with all, no longer under the disapproving but watchful eye of the White authorities, left to their own devices.

The harmful White perpetuated myths of Coloureds as skollie, as errant and disobedient children, lazy, churlish, unable to work, easily swayed by alcohol, sex and idleness; pervaded South African society, so that although Apartheid was over perceptions of Colouredness were still framed in those terms.

Many Coloureds perceive themselves still in these terms, certainly many African and White South Africans do and as the country changes, many Coloured people are being left behind in huge swathes as the safety net falls away from them and deeply engrained perceptions of self are proving destructive to betterment in post-Aparthied South Africa.

Since the end of Apartheid division of wealth in South Africa has been steadily moving towards parity between Whites and Africans but not Coloureds, who are struggling to make-up ground as their identity and culture lays in tatters about them.

South Africa will not be whole again, or the great nation it can be, until Coloured people can genuinely stand shoulder to shoulder with their brothers and sisters.

Friday, 23 April 2010

Football in South Africa

South Africa is of course going to be the home of this year's World Cup, the first time the world's greatest sporting event is to be hosted in Africa and thus, the world's media spotlight has been turned onto, what you could argue is, Africa's leading nation (it certainly is with regards to economic development and GDP).

I have already blogged on the inherent racism that our Western media is blighted with, highlighted, as if some terrible precursor, by the murder of a fat, daft racist. That awful episode does not bode well for the media coverage of the World Cup and I am not looking forward to the 'game-of-two halves' pseudo-coverage: the first half full of colourful African fabrics, singing and pictures of skinny black boys kicking a cheap football around a make-shift sandy-soil pitch; whilst the second half ramps up the notion of South Africa as the home of carjackings, muggings and gang rape...perhaps with even a wink and a nod to the murder rate.

I can feel my heckles rising as the clumsy Western media giant stomps all over the complex nuances of a fine country.

The great pity will be that they will not report on football's true role in South Africa as a crucial device for negotiating masculinity or more accurately, Coloured masculinity.

And here we must take a breather, because in the UK and indeed America, Coloured has a different meaning to that in South Africa as a pejorative, a racist term but in South Africa and its environs it is a valid term (but also, in some contexts pejorative because of the role that the Coloured person plays in South African mythology...but more on that in another post) for a person of mixed heritage, ie: white and African.

Football is very important in South Africa because it is an activity around which Coloured male peer group identities are produced. It has huge uptake in Coloured communities, more so than in African and White communities; it consumes a huge part of life both in the playing, the watching and the discussing. It is both a uniter of Coloured communities stricken with internal conflict and external prejudice and a tool to reinforce and readdress conflicts without resorting to deadly force.

Drawing parallels with basketball in the United States, it is an activity for those men living in those Coloured communities wracked with crime, violence and poverty to escape. Both in the prosaic sense: that through dedication, application and ability one can leave the community behind physically (although, rarely spiritually) and also in the less earthbound sense of sport as the transformative and temporal act of resistance to Coloured identities; of becoming something else, even if only for short time.

It has a similar impact upon the townships themselves, which are unpredictable and violent places but whilst a game is in progress they inherit the heavily regulated and rule-bound elements of the football. Temporarily yes but football plays a crucial part in Coloured life and one that I doubt we will see under the spotlight of our collected news outlets.

Football allows Coloured South Africans, now more marginalised than ever in South African society, to re-imagine themselves as part of the new post-Aparthied South Africa, a much needed sense of self in national identity politics and a way of escaping the racial hierarchy of South Africa that has long placed Coloureds at the very bottom: nether White nor African.

Thursday, 22 April 2010

David Cameron (Folded/Crumpled) = Macaroon

D-Cam edited and altered for the better, to become something new, something transformative, something truly 'for change' even if it is change for its own sake.

His head as art.

The work of the ever brilliant, ever inventive Rich White.

And the title of this blog post could pass for a Radiohead song title...

Wednesday, 21 April 2010

Tuesday, 20 April 2010

Bumping into a Daft Racist

I can't believe it but I am working for the BBC.

After three lengthy auditions and much nail-biting I am taking my very own comedy creation, the legendary New Basford resident and top bloke Kirky (named after my great pal Kirky...I'm looking forward to seeing you bro!), onto your television sets.

I don't want to talk in too much detail just yet, or give too much away but yesterday was the first day of filming at BBC Television Centre. This was like a dream come true, pulling up to that famous building in a Jaguar (not mine, they had it come and pick me up) and gliding past security and onwards and upwards, deep into the bowels of the BBC to do my first day of filming there.

I remember standing in a corridor, waiting to go in and do my stuff outside of the studio we were filming in and had a real moment of "what the fuck I am doing here, how did I manage this?" before I heard action and was diving into what I do best.

The only downside, in what was a spectacular day in my life, was touching the BNP's uber-fuhrer Nick Griffin. I actually walked into him, or he walked into me, not sure which way round it was all so quick. I was surprised because the fat, daft, one-eyed racist was moving at quite a pace for a big lad and was lurching far ahead of his burly minders and apparatchiks.

He kind of bounced off me, made his apologies, as did I...even instinct in an instant can bypass my loathing of bigots and scuttled off into a lift.

I discovered that my dressing room was right next to his and I thought about knocking on and having a chat with him but I thought better not cause a scene on my first day at the BBC.

Turned out he was there to do an interview for Radio 5 Live, which you can hear right here if you want to hear the daft racist blathering on.

Monday, 19 April 2010

What I Made When I Went to Norway: Brilleland Advert

You may recall that way back in February I filmed back to back adverts for the European market, one for SKY ITALIA with my good pal Martin Collins and another, in one of my favourite countries to work in, Norway.

Well, hot off the press, here is my latest Norwegian advert...

And while I was stumbling around the YouTubes finding that, I also came across this badboy, from the heady days of 2007, presenting a pilot, film TV show.

My hair, let it be said, was horribly shit.

Oh well.

Oh and on the 17th April, I turned 34.

Go figure.

Friday, 16 April 2010

Stew & Dumplings and the 1st Prime Ministerial Debate

It was with a sense of anticipation that Eva-Jane and I sat down with our beef stew and dumplings to watch the first of three Prime Ministerial Debates, this one being on ITV.

It got off to a very bad start as we have some serious aerial problems were we live and a few moments before it all kicked off the signal was just fine, but then, as if disturbed by David Cameron who resembles C3PO made of ham, it went on the fritz. We could of course get the BBC but we didn't, for once, want the BBC and no doubt when the BBC has the debate it will implode on itself and all we'll be able to get is What Katie Did Next.

To add to the frustration, the live stream on the shite ITV website kept buffering every 31 motherfucking seconds, making it a stop start affair that was so frustrating I said fuck an awful lot and bemoaned modern technology.

Thanks to some expert cable wiggling by Eva (not a euphemism) and some crafty use of a magnetic paperclip holder as a ramp and some high heels as a paperweight (again, not euphemisms) we got a good signal.

You see, unlike those tedious bastards wracked with an aloof cynicism about the entire thing, we were quite excited to see what would happen, our appetite for politics not dulled by spending far too much time on the Internet and being very presumptuous about what the great unwashed think.

We were not disappointed and although it was not the best thing ever, it certainly sparked our interest in the election further and the following debates and when we went to About My Vote, the place you go to register to vote, it was snowed under with traffic and was very slow indeed. That is some impact.

Some thoughts then...

First up, their was a huge effort on the part of all three to remember everyone's name that asked a question but all that extended to was not actually remembering the names but writing them down and referring to them off of their bits of paper. This effort to be personal, to look at the questioner, to call them by name, was a nice idea but pushed to such grotesque extremes it was painful to watch and seemed horribly forced in the hands of those three socially stunted individuals.

I actually think that these chaps are at their worst when they try and be populist and 'of the people', the truth is they aren't and their jobs can't be done by everyone, so trying to smudge the barriers between us and them just makes them look odd and us stupid. I don't think the electorate what folksy mannerisms, which just appear disingenuous, what people want is policy and answers to tough questions.

This human touch, or Spock touch as I prefer to call it, got even worse when 'our brave servicemen and women' got mentioned, it suddenly felt like the Sun was speaking through all three of them. All three were falling over themselves to say how brave our brave troops were for being so brave and brave in the face of things that are hard to be brave in front of even if you are really, really brave, as they are and I did I mention that they are brave?

A horrid moment was Brown, at the end of a spiel just like that, vomiting out the catchphrase: "I SUPPORT OUR TROOPS!" as if he has some new, military based form of Tourette Syndrome.

Clegg developed a constantly-exasperated-with-the-other-two-nobs thing, that did wear thin after a while, nearly as thin as Brown’s constant smiling/chortling and trying to show that Clegg is on his team and D-Cam standing square centre for much of it, looking off at '11 o’clock' as if from the Marlon Brandon school of acting. I did like Clegg's body language though, open and engaged, not like the ham C3PO of D-Cam and the slightly hunched but beaming Brown.

The biggest problem was the sheer weight of anecdotes that got bandied around, it seems that all three have been busy meeting disabled/young/old/black/unemployed/soldiers/and combinations of five, with the sole purpose of regailing us with anecdotes. Sorry but these didn't wash, especially David Cameron's anecdotal black man...

And speaking of David Cameron, most alarming was his propensity to sound like the Daily Mail, most of his scare stories were straight out of that vile, racist rag and it showed a lack of fact and reliance on twisting a good old yarn...the twat.

In summary then, Cameron was horrid, Brown was surprisingly smiley and wonderfully solid and Clegg flared it out like the little Liberal Democrat genius he is.

Thursday, 15 April 2010

Asylum Seeker Stat P0rn

Nothing gets a right-wing daft racist frothing at the mouth more than immigration and ruddy bloody asylum seekers coming over here to escape torture/sexual abuse/all their family has been slaughtered and/or certain death to claim our benefits or more accurately, not be allowed to work while it takes fucking ages to figure out what to do with them and they suffer discrimination and further abuse from ignorants and plebs.

The UN High Commissioner for Refugees recently released some tasty stats on the subject matter of asylum seekers around the globe, reckoning that some 377,160 people sought asylum in industrialised countries last year, pretty much the same number as the year before.

It is of little surprise that the leading nationality seeking asylum are Afghans, followed by Iraqis, because war displaces vast swathes of people, yet we seem reticent to embrace one of the many consequences of our wars.

Still, the UK come fourth on the list with around 30,000 application, 5% down on last year, which will no doubt have the racists disappointed as their dreams of the UK overrun by non-whites will have to wait a little bit longer. The United States is of course the top destination with France in second place, Canada third and Germany and Sweden following up the rear behind the UK.

Interestingly, or perhaps worryingly considering how monocultural these nations are; Poland with a 47% increase and Belgium with 40% increase, have seen the biggest jumps in applications for asylum.

The biggest percentage fall belongs to Italy of course, who have been giving off deeply racist vibes for quite some time to scare off non-whites and it has worked, asylum applications dropped a whopping 42%.

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

Jewelry by LuShae (Blog Whoring Part 1)

Back in February I had a weird request, I knew it was a weird request because the email was headed: "Weird Request" and the gist of it was a lady called Sarah wanted to send me a piece of jewellery from her store (complimentary of course).

She then wanted me to post my honest thoughts (good, bad or ugly) on the product, so here we are.

Well first up, Eva-Jane and I perused the site for sometime, what took a while is that when faced with a wide range of goods, Eva has a tendency to freeze with consumer panic. Like a rabbit in the headlights of a huge moving shopping centre. It didn't help that the first thing she wanted, a hip pair of earrings were sold out but eventually she plumped for a jazzy ring (wonderfully entitled Silver Tone Trillion Fashionista), which was an error because we got the wrong size and we've had to give it to Angela instead.

Oh well, Eva's loss is Aggi's gain...

The ring itself was nice enough if you like very sparkly things, it was of good quality but the sheer level of sparkle and shine could make it appear cheap, depending upon your taste that is but if bling is your thing...

The packaging was smart but the only downside was that I had to pay a customs fine of a tenner, which wasn't in the plan but what's a tenner when you've got a free ring?

More blog whoring to follow!

I feel so dirty...

Tuesday, 13 April 2010

Death of a Fat Racist Brings Out The Racist in The News

One downside of having a beautiful girlfriend born in South Africa, is that I now care rather a lot about South Africa and have been eagerly consuming literature and knowledge on the complex and difficult history of what is a fine, fine country.

This complexity seems to have passed much of our news by, which, with the forthcoming World Cup and now the death of a vile, daft racist; has been turning it's poorly informed lens onto the country. I was away in Paris when Eugène Terre'Blanche was bludgeoned to death by some of his workers, whom he'd stiffed on payment, thus I had only access to CNN, Sky News and the trusty BBC for reference and none of them shrouded themselves in reportage glory.

First up, they fell for the myth that South Africa would now plummet into some Charles Manson, Helter Skelter scenario of blacks killing whites...or angry whites killing blacks...or someone killing someone else...please? Basically, South Africa was on a race-hate knife edge and the murder of a fat, daft racist was the spark to ignite the touch-paper; so get your popcorn, roll on the 24 hour news coverage of blacks killing whites. Oh I can see the blood now and the Africans fulfilling their stereotypes, as the journalists churn out their material...

But it got worse, when it became clear that the media invented race-war would not occur because, let's face it, why should it when a daft racist has been killed (imagine if, God forbid, Nick Griffin got beaten to death for example. It would not spark a race-war, more of a street party), they tried to hype up the funeral as the next thing to pull the blacks-smite-whites hair trigger.

Apart from it didn't.

And then the penny dropped as to why the Western media was being so spitefully presumptuous, it was riddled with a deep-set racism.

Racism that confused the extremist and fringe beliefs of Eugène Terre'Blanche and his dolt followers with all white South Africans. Racism that was ignorant to South Africa's large and growing black and coloured middle-class and preferred to imagine all the non-whites as machete welding savages living in tin huts, just desperate to hack some whitey meat to bits as revenge for Apartheid. Racism that refuses to shine a light on the 3,000 white farmers murdered since the end of Apartheid (my blog post on this can be found here) for fear of appearing, perversely, racist, whilst at the same time never truly engaging with the plight of 'the Poors' in South Africa, offering merely vengeful soundbites.

It embarrasses me a great deal that our media cannot grasp or fathom that fine country and when South Africa does not fulfil it's grim stereotype and confounds all myopic media expectations, all that can be offered is a repetition of the mantra, in the vain and insidious hope of perhaps making it become a reality.

After all, South Africa wracked by a race-war would make just divine news darling...

Monday, 12 April 2010

One Can Always Do One More (Thoughts on Paris)

Eva-Jane and I had a fantastic time in Paris thanks very much for asking.

It was a new experience for us because we promised to not exhaust ourselves on sight-seeing and cultural adventures and rather to relax and hang out with our lovely relatives, Gina and Stephen and generally have a holiday, rather than a deep and profoundly moving learning experience. My usual and quite tedious military planning went out of the window, I had to console myself with a measly two maps and a rough plan written onto a single side of A4, almost unheard of for me, just incase we felt like sight-seeing...

This was the first time in a long time that I have had another couple/friends, whom I love very much, to hang out with and it was a real and genuine joy, it kinda' made the holiday for us as they were such delightful company. Don't get me wrong, Eva-Jane and I travelling as a mini-team can amuse ourselves endlessly, rather this actually...

...but it was grand to have some other folks around to share it all with, so Gina and Stephen, thank you and much love and respect to you both.

So instead of 9 hour days of walking from one bit of history to the next, we relaxed and enjoyed Paris' fine bars and brasseries with excellent company. The first night we hung out at the Park Hyatt Paris Vendome for some ridiculous cocktails named after a Wu-Tang Clan side project, before buying Eva-Jane a €70 Bloody Mary at the legendary Bar Hemingway at the Paris Ritz.

I could get used to living this high life.

That same night we went to the Brasserie Lipp before having a nightcap at the also very famous Le Deux Magots. I came over all Sartre and Auschwitz became a verb, it was heavy, heavy stuff.

The next day we did some shopping and noted four key things:

  1. Paris is fucking expensive and things come with a Paris mark-up that is verging on the evil, add to this the Euro Zone/Sterling blues and you're in for a wallet bum-rape
  2. Parisians lack basic understanding of personal space and engage in serious barging at any given opportunity, they also stare a lot and by the end of the holiday Eva and I were kicking some serious Parisian ass
  3. They aren't as cool or as fashionable as they think they are
  4. Service in Parisian bars and restaurants is glacially slow, it was like living in slow-motion
That night we tried another great brasserie before I introduced the rest of the gang to the joys of was a good day.

Day 3 brought the best steak-frites I have ever had in my entire life, I kid you not, if ever you're in Paris get ya' sen' down to Le Relais l'Entrecote, no bookings are taken and you have to wait for a bit but it is worth it. No menu as they just serve the best steak-frites on the planet, with a secret sauce, a great walnut salad and plenty of mustard.

Word up.

That day also bought the Catacombs of Paris, which is basically like being 20 metres beneath the surface in a disused quarry, surrounded by the skulls and bones of dead Parisians, for as far as the eye can see. It was intense, a feeling seemingly not shared by the army of American tourists that squealed their way through the dead, underground city and used their flash (forbidden), touched the remains of the dead (forbidden) and said the most inane things (forbidden by me, I could've added to the heaps of dead quite easily with some fresh bones...). Fuck 'em, bring on the next war, let them be at the front.

Our final day was a game of two very excellent halves, we crammed all our sight seeing into the day and literally saw everything, at a fair gallop but we took it all in (the measly two maps and one side of A4 notes came in very useful, always be prepared!). The evening however started well and got even better.

It started with yet more fine food, washed down with some Grimbergen, before adjourning once again to the Park Hyatt Paris Vendome for a quick cognac based cocktail that set my chest on fire and I then got to meet and shake hands with Patti Smith (for the record her hands are very soft and I did not embarrass myself or prostrate myself at her feet) and then to the legendary Harry's New York Bar, where the waiter told us that they sold no wine, only two beers but could make any cocktail that had ever existed.

What occurred next is a vague, delightful, sepia-tinged blur but if memory serves me well I had four Brandy Alexanders (the motto that night, after each round, was one can always do one more), deep, delightful, irreverent discussion and one of the best nights of my life. What a blast!

Unfortunately, the next day was home time and I could barely breath, stand or make my way effectively to the waiting Eurostar. Thanks to Eva-Jane's steady and caring guidance I made it to the train without vomiting and by the time we pulled into St. Pancras I was as right as nine-pence.

Like I said, one can always do one more.

What a wonderful adventure.

Sunday, 11 April 2010

Theme Tune

Quite a few of the blogs I love have decided to give themselves a theme tune, fine blogs such as Obsolete, The Power of Blog, Blood & Treasure, Chicken Yogurt and many, many others.

So here is mine:

With possible closing credit music...

And here is my blog's bonus track:

Be cool to know what yours are...oh and obviously, I'm back from Paris.

Tuesday, 6 April 2010

Off To Gay Paris (No Homo)

Well, I hope ya'll had a mighty fine Easter break and ate chocolate and stuff in order to celebrate a Jew rising from the grave and ascending to heaven. Whatever floats your boat. Basically, it was four days off interrupted only by landscape gardeners coming round to give us estimates on how much it'll cost to sort out our garden.

Speaking of off, Eva-Jane and I are off to what promises to be a sunny Paris for a holiday and to hang out with family, promises to be a real cool time no doubt and a much deserved vacation for the pair of us.

I'm currently up for a couple of cool jobs and am on that notorious thing called a pencil, which means they like me a lot but not enough to book me...yet. One of the projects is working with the Little Britain peeps and the other is a comedy creation of my own called Kirky (sorry Kirky but I stole your name for a comedy character) who is from New Basford, has ADHD, is a gypo and presents shows for the BBC...hopefully.

So we'll see.

As you all know by now, I waste far too much time debating with racists on the Internet so with this in mind, I'll leave you with an interesting video that someone sent me as a guide to how I should do it. I ignored him of course, racist appeasement just isn't in my nature but it makes for fun viewing.

See ya'll next week.

Thursday, 1 April 2010

I Saw These And Thought of You...

A General Election will be with us soon and can you spot in the above image while I'll never vote for D-Cam and his lackeys. A clue: it's not his hair or choice of ties but the subliminal message on the right.

Not that New Labour will be getting my vote, if only though they had the balls to run adverts like these...

...then perhaps they might. We all know that Brown would have Cameron in a scrap, simple as.

And then, I found this image over at Back Towards The Locus (a fine, fine blog, very challenging indeed) and it fits just fine with this post's collection of disturbing British political images:

Ex-Prime Minister Tony Blair as Christ anyone? How Messianic is that poster? Fuck me, utter madness, the man has a Christ complex the size of Canada.

In other news a goal is scored from well over 70 yards, a feat in itself but by a goalkeeper?