Goodballoon's paunch

Tonight on Radio 4

2008-01-14T20:09:00.001Z

18.00 - 18.30 - I'm sorry, this is my penis
Comedy panel show featuring Paul Merton, Willie Rushton, Brian Conley and Sandi Toksvig

18.30 - 19.30 - Paul Morley on silence
Paul Morley presents this exploration on peace and quiet and why it isn't quite as important as punk.

19.30 - 21.00 Stephen King's 'Cakes'
A presentation of Stephen King's most recent and, perhaps, most terrifying work. An evil baker creates an evil batch of cake-mix and unleashes it upon the English village of Titchmouse. Stars Peter Bowles and Alison Steadman.

21.00 - 21.00 Let's be 'avin' you
Punt and Dennis ensure they get paid this week by riffing on how various landlords may ask you to leave a public house.

21.00 - 22.00 Tired, tired, tired - Guest edited by the ghost of Fred Dibnah
The late night discussion show this week features Charles Dance, Delbert Wilkins and Jack Osbourne looking at the work of French arthouse maestro Jacques Biro.

22.00 - 23.00 Lady dance
This week: Jermaine Defoe

23.00 - 23.30 Quiet hate
Jon Gaunt whispers a stream of invective into a microphone whilst trying not to disturb a nearby puppy. This week the subject is 'Public money spent on immigrants'.

23.30 - Midnight Rock me to sleep, you crazy bitch!
Suzi Quatro lulls listeners to sleep with a select batch of rock songs carefully selected to ensure immediate sleep. Or death.

Midnight - 00.05 Trucking news
All the black-ice and glory-hole news from the A Roads and motorways of the UK.

00.05 Shut down

He's back!

2008-01-13T17:20:00.000Z

Who's back? He!

Now I know what some of you are thinking: why did I end up at this page? I was looking for a picture of a tube being inserted into a plastic penis. Well that tube and that latex appendage can be seen in the profile picture so suck it up you strange, medico-filthseeker.

Others may be wondering where I have been, and why I had bothered to start writing on this unmissed shit-bath again. There has been no public outcry since I stopped, no wailing and gnashing of teeth, no phonecall from Bono urging me to write something... ANYTHING!... for the sake of Africa. No... this is yet another instance of the self-indulgent, unwanted tripe that clogs the internet and makes finding any useful information nigh-on impossible. Lip-synching Taiwanese kids, 15 year-olds stripping on their webcams, lisping homosexuals talking about the latest splattery turds to fall out of Britney Spears... this blog is no better or worse than any of these, or at least it hasn't been until now.

From this moment on I shall try to make this a useful, informative and healthy depository of facts and opinion. I shall do what I can to nudge you, dear reader, along the road to being a better, more productive human being and in so doing, improve myself. Here is a list of facts to being our intelliventure:

- Jamie Oliver owns the word "herbage". He is also attempting to buy the words "zest", "olive", "clam" and "Jew".

- The Pentagon invented High Definition television as a way to cull some of the less attractive actors in Hollywood. They aim to make expectations of physical beauty even higher which will result in society becoming better looking. They also want 'Desperate Housewives' off of the air.

- Battery chicken farming involves very few batteries. Three or four at the most.

- The Beatles never really existed as a band. Their hits were written by a committee comprising Ray Davies, Spike Milligan, Harold Macmillan, Peter Cook, Eric Burdon, Rolf Harris and some senior civil servants. John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr were all inventions of 'Punch magazine' and were played by actors, some of which still make personal appearances today.

- Birthday cards are the size they are so you can better fit HMV vouchers in them.

- The Irish are not naturally as aggressive as they appear.

- Pleats were named after James Pleat, a Scottish pervert who was annoyed at constantly being thwarted in his attempts to see up "young ladies" skirts. After inventing the pleat he and his partner, Stephen Nonce, were jailed.

- The night does not, despite the song, belong to lovers. It belongs to rapists; please be careful.

So, I hope that this first step to a smarter world has been, at least, partially successful. Who knows how these facts may inspire some youngster to learn more, read more, become more... we can but dream.

Prologue: I lose my mind.

2007-09-30T18:20:00.000+01:00

If I had to hazard a guess I'd have said that James was a man. He had all the bits that men have, the feet and inches, the stones and ounces. His head was big and handsome, like a chiselled TV that had been showing an old episode of Blue Peter with Simon Groom and his dog, Doggy. He had first bounded into my life when, open-hearted and bottomed, I had been looking for love. Love wasn't on the cards, but it's remains soon would be.

James wasn't my usual type; for a start he was a man. I had always been able to admire the finer points of a masculine frame; the broad sweep of the shoulders, the strong arms coated with a fine dusting of dark hair, the delicate labia... but I had never loved a man. A man had never swept me off of my feet, never made me want to dance (Forsyth aside), never broken my heart; James was to change all of that. As soon as I saw him, I wanted to be close to him; close to the warm hum of his testes, the dank lesson of his neck, the ripe mantlepiece of his wrists. He had broken me. Ow!

It took me months to summon the courage to speak to James. How could I, a mere cat, make him mine. It was an impossible task... I would have to use every trick in the book. The Paul Daniels Magic Book. First up: the disappearing chinaman.

I would need to find a chinaman.

Please let me be the first...

2007-09-23T10:59:00.000+01:00

Au revoir Marcel Marceau. Thanks for the memories.

Any famous last words?

Why can't we do this?

2007-08-16T23:48:00.001+01:00

So here are some videos. Two are of Jon Stewart and one is a reaction to Jon Stewart. The first is Jon Stewart's first Daily Show after September the 11th. It is a moving, honest and candid record of the reaction to the event and it's aftermath.

Now this is deeply unpleasant. This is a right-wing nut-job called Jon Gibson who, whilst commenting on a columnist who feels America NEEDS another September the 11th, decides to take the piss out of Jon Stewart and, probably, those that died in the attacks.

Pretty good stuff, eh? What a stand-up fella. There's patriotism for you; it wishes death on it's own countrymen.

So anyway, Jon Stewart goes on, keeps doing his stuff. A couple of nights ago he interviewed Dick Cheney's biographer. Here he refers to Jon Gibson and hands a neo-con apologist his own arse.

Now, I know what it's like... some dick puts some videos on his website instead of writing something of note, but to be fair Jon Stewart is clearly a man of genuine intelligence, humour (with a u) and moral character. What he says should be noted and, if you don't like it, go fuck yourself and your sanctimonious, self-righteous, shit-doggery. Watch 'em, don't watch 'em. As if I give a fuck. It's only the internet, it aint important. Not like the press.

Thanks.

UPDATED BY ME!!!

It looks like the first one has been pulled. Probably cos they were getting so many hits from this mega site. Or not.

Love on the airfield

2007-08-08T00:01:00.000+01:00

I was securing the mounting bracket for the wing when he approached. Tall, good-looking but with a geeky hint of the teenager about him, his swagger doing a bad job to hide twenty-two years of little town oppression.
"Hey Jasper, how're you doing?" I wasn't quick to answer. I wasn't quick to anything. Being handsome and collosal meant I could be slow and that and it dodn't matter. And that.
"Howdy Daniel. What's going on?" I replied. I had recently taken to saying "howdy". It was the late nineteen-fifties and saying "howdy" had just replaced the hula-hoop as the height of fashionable fun.
"Oh Jasper. You're saying howdy now. Jeez, I just can't get into the habit." Daniel blushed as he spoke. I liked it when he blushed he looked like he was a bit sunburnt. That, in turn, reminded me of bacon and I sure did like a big slab of bacon. Oh yes.
"It's easy to do, Daniel. All you got to do is think before you speak." I said, sagely.
"How do you mean?" He said, anti-sagely.
"Well, when you approached me what were you thinking?" I hadn't meant this as an angle for compliments, I usually didn't have to angle being so darn cute. "Darn" was another word I was using these days.
"I was thinking how good you looked securing that mounting bracket. I thought how lucky the plane was to have you working its... er..." he blushed again.
"Nuts, Daniel?" I stared at him thoughtfully.
"Er... yeah." His eyes met mine. We drank one another in. Slowly we moved closer and closer, like two planets unable to defy gravity or the laws of physics.
"Goodballoon!" It was the airfield foreman, Simpson. Daniel and I jumped away from one another. "Have you finished securing that mounting bracket for that wing yet? mr Holly needs to be in the air in ten minutes."
"Yes sir." I spat back.
I returned to my work, by my concentration was on something else. The rest, as they say, is tragic musical history.

Campbell on The Daily Show

2007-08-06T11:09:00.001+01:00

Jon Stewart's last line is absolutely brilliant.

Someone give that man his own show.

Question

2007-08-01T00:09:00.000+01:00

If you were searching for a picture and ended up here because of the profile picture (and I know a lot of you do just that) then tell me, just between us, what the hell were you searching for? Please! It's really annoying me.

Well played Mister Monbiot

2007-07-31T17:16:00.000+01:00

Here is very nice article from George Monbiot in The Guardian. Beautifully written and incredibly damning of the Brown administration... pretty depressing too.

RIP Mike Reid

2007-07-29T23:01:00.000+01:00

God rest your soul, Mike Reid. You always seemed like a nice enough fellow, although I was never sure about your sartorial sense. You also seemed to miss the new wave of comedy in the 1980's which sometimes meant that a few of your jokes were a little... shall we say, misjudged. Anyway, I'll leave the last word to your agent,

"He would see the funny side of any situation, no matter how black it was."

Oh... that was a mistake.

Not clever, not insightful, but true...

2007-07-24T23:33:00.000+01:00

Jon Gaunt is a cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt, cunt.

I could go into his ludicrous right-wing, violence-urging, nonsensical, xenophobic, lowest-common-denominator appeasing views, but why bother when copy-and-paste does the job so much better?

Damage done

2007-07-22T11:11:00.000+01:00

Alas, we have passed through the looking-glass once again. After Hutton, Lord Butler et al, we now have the CPS tirelessly helping to protect Blair's image by craping out of a prosecution of anyone involved in the Cash for Honours thingy. Now, we all know that they were renting out peerages to those that kept their Frankenstein's monster of a party afloat. We know they would help those who shored up pet projects like academies and Millenium Domes. We know that Levy and his ilk were part of a conspiracy of silence on the matter that went all the way to Blair, but the CPS has decided that the evidence is not there. Fine.

What isn't fine, however, is this little period after the fact. This is the point after Lord Hutton's enquiry where Alastair Campbell got to glower and gloat from a podium like some small-time mafiosi who'd scared a jury into getting him off a racketeering charge. It was here that Greg Dyke was forced out of his job and the BBC started a period of navel-gazing that still with us today. With Cash for Honours we are getting arsehole articles like the one in today's Observer by Sarah Helm, wife of Jonathan Powell, himself the ex-Chief of Staff of Tony Blair. She writes:

"I know one shouldn't make these comparisons, but I was writing about Nazi Germany right then and I couldn't help think: Gestapo tactics! Pick on the vulnerable, preferably a single woman, living alone. No matter that you may have nothing on her that will ultimately stand up in court - give her a scare."

And...

"At best we saw just sloppy, bad reporting, and at worst, cheap sensation and vindictive lies."

Brilliant. She accuses the police of "Gestapo tactics!" and then the press of "cheap sensation"; it's good to see that New Labour consistency still on display. Perhaps someone should speak to Ms Helm about the Gestapo and what they actually did. The Gestapo was a secret agency that operated outside of judicial control and so was able to lock people up without trial. The Gestapo were used to control those in Germany and occupied countries by means of arrest and execution, often in very large numbers and, again without any oversight by a court. They would often work on leads or "denuciations" by members of the public who were encouraged to inform on their fellow citizens.

Inspector Yates woke Ruth Turner up and arrested her because he felt she may have perverted the course of justice. She was taken to a police station, charged, questioned and released. Her file has gone to the CPS and they have decided she should not be prosecuted. Case closed, as they say.

On June the 2nd 2006, Mohammed Abdul Kahar and Abul Koyair were arrested in a 4am raid on their home in Lansdowne Road, Forest Gate. Kahar was shot in the shoulder during the raid, which involved over 200 police officers. The men were held for over a week without being made aware of the charges against them, but could have been held for up to 28 days without any charge under anti-terror guidelines introduced by the Government (who, along with the police, would have preferred 90 days). The raid was prompted by information from Mohammed Abu Bakr Mansha, a 22 year-old with an IQ of just 69, a full 31 points less than the national average. Reports indicate that Scotland Yard was not happy with the quality of the information and were prompted to act upon it by Sir Richard Mottram in the Cabinet Office. The full cost of the raid was over £2,000,000. Blair said he supported the police action "101%".

So here we have:

- 200+ police officers.
- Pre-dawn raid.
- Use of extreme force.
- A weeks detention.
- Use of sub-standard informants and information.
- Governmental intervention.

Now, I could get over-excited like most of the maniacs of the left and accuse the police and Government of Gestapo tactics (although I wouldn't add the tabloidesque exclamation mark that Sarah Helm feels inclined to use), but I won't. They were pressed into a untenable position and felt compelled to act. I would however say this: next time you are writing a piece for a Sunday newspaper and want people to take your position seriously, don't make ridiculous accusations and over-blown statements about police brutality that don't hold up. Don't bandy around comparisons to the Nazis when a friend of yours gets a taste of something that your husband and his cronies have helped to spread. Oh, and please don't push your luck too far by doing your best Campbell impression and gloating over the bruised body of your opponent; hubris is a terrible thing, you know.

I'll do it before 'Mock the week' does.

2007-07-18T08:26:00.000+01:00

From the BBC website today:

"One in 14 adults cannot answer a maths question aimed at eight-year-old children, a survey suggests. The question was: What is one eighth of 32? The options given were a)6 b)4 c)2 d)8 e)None of these f)Don't know - the correct answer being b)4."

Isn't that amazing? 1 in 14 adults couldn't answer that question. That's nearly 20%!

Boom.

Boom.

Wow! Look at this shit!

2007-07-16T17:27:00.001+01:00

I can't wait for Alan Bond's new exciting adventure, once he comes back to life.

Grades of shit

2007-07-14T20:16:00.000+01:00

Here's Michael Grade, quoted on Friday afternoon, talking about the BBC/Queen-storming-out thingy:

"We are in an age today where there has been a huge influx of young talent into the industry as it expands. They have not been trained properly, they don't understand that you do not lie to audiences at any time, in any show - whether it's news or whether it's a quiz show ... It's desperately important that we restore trust and that the programme-makers get to understand - whether through hard lessons or through training or a combination of both - that you do not lie to audiences under any circumstances."

Interesting. In less than twenty-four hours Michael Grade has been made aware of a problem, considered what the likely causes of that problem are, researched his hypothesis, concluded he was correct, and then made a statement to that effect. Now, what he says may be true; it may be that for years now a slow drip-drip of inexperienced talent in the media has lowered the quality threshold until we get to the point where nobody knows any better, but shouldn't their superiors (including one M. Grade) have been checking to see what was going on? Aren't they paid to do precisely that? And isn't it strange just how quickly Grade reached this conclusion? It's almost as if he's known about all of this for ages and didn't say anything; strange behaviour for someone who has been the Chairman of the BBC and head of ITV over the last couple of years.

Of course the real problem is that most television is made in precisely the same way as the Queen clip with timelines switched around and events being shown out of their correct order to better tell a story or to get a different effect. Most directors and editors do it skillfully enough that the public don't notice (or at least pretend not to notice). The problem here is that RDF, the programme-makers, are complete fucking idiots and made a pigs-ear of it, plus the palace complained and the Beeb shat themselves. You try getting them to move as fast as this if you get stitched up. It'll take more than a call to 'Points of view' to get Peter Fincham on 'Newsnight' on the verge of tears when 'Watchdog' makes you look a prick.

Suffice it to say this will all blow-over and it will be business as usual at TV Centre by Friday, although a ritual sacrifice or two may occur first.

Got ten minutes?

2007-07-04T20:20:00.000+01:00

This is what TV was designed for.

When you think of American television, ten minutes of a man talking probably isn't the first thing that springs to mind, but here it is; can you imagine someone doing this on London Tonight?

P.S. If your a Yank, and you've seen this, yet not written to your congressmen requesting an impeachment bid... shame on you.

Blow me

2007-07-03T08:18:00.000+01:00

Some lovely doggy-woggies that sniffed out the nasty bombs on July 7th are to be given special doggy medals for being big brave boys. Aren't you? Aren't you? Yeeeeeessssss...

Ahem. Other things to be honoured during the ceremony:

- Nelson of Nelson's column
- The carriage that exploded at Russell Square
- The dead Thames whale
- Roy Orbison's sunglasses
- Kylie Minogue
- A police breathalyser
- Einstein's chalk and blackboard
- Tower One of the World Trade Center

All fine and deserving recipients, I'm sure you'll agree.

Join me

2007-07-02T22:55:00.000+01:00

Right, I've had enough. I am absolutely going forward with my terrorist training camp. These so-called "jihadists" are a bloody shambles. Two car-bombs that wouldn't have scorched the radio volume control knobs, and an airport attack that did less damage than the average Scottish family at the Irn Bru counter. Jesus! We that follow Allah (and of course I have been an ardent pupil of Mohammed since 9/11) should feel nothing but shame at these second-rate subversives.

My new training camp will have all that any would-be suicide bomber, amateur pilot, or IED-maker would need to ensure that 75 virgins will be theirs in a few explosive moments. Facilities will include:

- Kidnap 101
- Rocket-launcher techniques
- Video production (including internet distribution)
- Beard care

Should you be interested in joining up then call us right away. Spaces are short (although around twenty should free up around the end of August - nudge, wink) and the first ten that sign up will receive a selection of box-cutters in any colour of their choice.

The training camp is part-funded by the National Lottery and our commercial partners at Nike.

Lost: T. Blair's mind.

2007-06-19T12:53:00.000+01:00

Blair today:

"It is so comforting to people to say there was an error made in the planning - Someone didn't spot what was going to go on. That is not what has created the problem. What has created the problem is that the people we are fighting have decided to give us a problem. What they have decided is that if they can hang on long enough in Iraq, or in Afghanistan, or anywhere else, then we will lose the will."

So the problem is not in the planning of the war. No, the problem is that the opposition in that war has... er... fought back. Didn't see that one coming, no? Really? Maybe you want to check on that "planning not-a-problem" argument again.

Goodnight, sweet prince.

2007-06-18T20:25:00.000+01:00

Alas, my dear, dear friend Bernard Manning has passed on to the great pie-shop in the sky. Bernard was something of a hero to me; I learned a great deal at his enormous, water-retaining knee about the ways of the world and all it's strange fascinations. He showed me the correct way to treat a lady, he ensured my entry into society was smooth and worry-free, and he was the first person to point out how a bludgeoning, charm-free racism could make one a millionaire.

I shall miss Bernard's company; he was always the first to have his cleaning lady offer you a drink or a bag of crisps. We would sit for hours on end discussing who was taking whose job, who had made what area go downhill and what constituted "foreign muck". That being said I shall, at last, be able to use all of those jokes that, for years, Bernard passed off as his own, or at least I will when dearest Jim Davidson finally shuffles away to the summer season on the other side. Sad days.

Groundhog day

2007-06-15T08:45:00.000+01:00

The Guardian are being all Guardiany and annoying in their music pages again today. You know that thing they do every three and a half days where they will have an oh-so-daring piece about things a lot of people think are good which they will say are rubbish? Well, they are doing it again today right here.

So, if you've ever wondered what a girl who was in the Sugababes before they were successful thinks of Abba's 'Arrival' or someone from The Kooks (whatever that is) thinks of 'Pet Sounds' go and have a look.

Here's me having a go:

The Guardian by Jasper Goodballoon.

I remember the first time I looked at The Guardian; I'd been told by all of my friends it was really good and had loads of great stuff and that about things but I soon found out wasn't as good as I thought it was and that so it was disappointing. I like The Times better. Or wanking.

Haven't you gone yet?

2007-06-12T13:59:00.000+01:00

Blair (and almost certainly Campbell) has made a speech attacking the press, and in particular The Independent, for lowering the standards of political discourse in this country. Apparently in modern day Britain the idea of doggedly following a story, reporting ministerial excess or asking questions of the government is a graver offence than unprovoked attacks on foreign countries, covering up billion pound bribes or selling voting positions in the House of Lords.

What a fucking arsehole.

Best of a bad bunch

2007-06-06T17:11:00.001+01:00

This message will self-destruct

2007-05-31T19:38:00.000+01:00

An explosive list? Jesus! Is there no end to these evil-doers cunning?

I'm sooo famous

2007-05-30T16:52:00.000+01:00

Look here. It's about bloody time someone started listening to my words of wisdom. I say my words but actually I stole that thing from Mister Lee at Pleasure of the harbour. The spelling mistakes were mine though.

How the news works.

2007-05-28T10:45:00.000+01:00

Here is a transcript from a conversation that took place this morning between a Sky News Producer and Ed Vaizey of The Conservative Party:

A phone rings.
Ed Vaizey: Hello
Sky Producer: Good morning, Mr Vaizey. Sorry to bother you so early.
EV: It's fine. what can I do for you?
SP: We were just wondering if ou wanted to get on the news today.
EV: That sounds like a good idea. What have you go for me to comment on?
SP: All sorts. Madeleine McCann?
EV: Bit gloomy.
SP: Yeah, see what you mean. David Beckham?
EV: Who?
SP: Rained-off cricket?
EV: Who's playing?
SP: England versus the West Indies. England have the upper hand but it's likely to be rained off.
EV: It's a bit too... Torie, if you know what I mean?
SP: Sure. What about the Channel 4 Diana documentary?
EV: That sounds like the thing. What's happening?
SP: Channel 4 are going to show a documentary featuring pictues of Diana after the crash. We're going to cover it by showing pictures of the crash scene.
EV: Perfect! People's Princess, a dig at Channel 4, we get on the news: Brilliant! I'll do it.
SP: Lovely. We'll send a car.
EV: Thanks.

"If you gave him an enema..."

2007-05-18T12:38:00.000+01:00

For the last few years it has seemed that Christopher Hitchens had lost his mind. His arguments for the Iraq war made this talented and interesting writer a polarising figure for the Left, and those of us who felt that his seeming alliance with the Right something of a defection, if not an outright act of treason. This week, however, we have had an illustration of just how good Mr Hitchens can be; he has been doing the talkshow circuit in America sentencing the "Reverend" Jerry Falwell to an Anti-theist Hell in a quite brilliant manner. Here he is on Hannity & Colmes, and keep an ear out for the very last line before the end:

From this side of the Atlantic it really is astonishing that people like Sean Hannity can actually get their own TV programme and it be mistaken for news. I'm not saying we're a great deal better than this but at least we don't have to put up with too many religious nutjobs substituting conviction in their beliefs (however ludicrous) for political fact. Blair aside, that is.

Beep-beep-beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeppppppp!!!

2007-05-14T21:34:00.000+01:00

People are always banging on about how banging the banging scene was during the banging days of rave. Well let me tell you, it was banging.

The early 1990's was a real whizz-crack time for me and anyone else who liked to head into the Kent countryside in a drunk-driver's Metro with thumping baselines bursting through a miasoma of MDMA fogged synapse. Or somethink. I was quite a face on the jungle scene. People would see me chewing my face off whilst 'picking apples', 'stacking boxes' and 'getting stuck in a revolving-door' and they'd say "Oh! There's Goodballoon. He's quite out of his gourd. What a wanker." They were, of course, absolutely correct. It was the literal truth.

I.

Was.

A.

Wanker.

But that was the great thing about the rave scene; no one held it against you, and if you tried to hold it against them they pushed it away. I loved the free-spirited, communal-living, 'no logo' vibe of the whole affair. As soon as I realised what was happening I thought, "There must be a way to make some money out of this." I was right.

I became a police informant. As soon as I knew the identity of the party-throwers and the likely venue I would call the drug squad who would immediately send four-hundred of their very finest. These gentle souls would then come to whichever airfield the dance was being held at and quietly explain that everyone would have to go home. I can't begin to guess how many braincells I have saved over the years through my conscientious use of the emergency services. I am truly a hero.

And a wanker.

Too much fuckin' perspective!

2007-05-12T12:50:00.000+01:00

Right, I know this turgid cul-de-sac of a blog has been a bit right-on and political for the last few posts and I promise that the next post will have a cock joke in it, but just one last word on the Iraq thing and all the things that thing and thingy did with it.

This here website has a nice item about the US cost of the big adventure in the Middle East and what else it could have bought. Here's a snippet just to give some sense on how much state-sponsored mass-murder could actually buy (and remember, if you voted Labour in the last general election you pardoned all of this):

"According to World Bank estimates, $54 billion a year would eliminate starvation and malnutrition globally by 2015, while $30 billion would provide a year of primary education for every child on earth.

At the upper range of those estimates, the $456 billion cost of the war could have fed and educated the world's poor for five and a half years."

The US and the UK: Bringing democracy to the World one racist war at a time.

Bridain (Updated - sexily)

2007-05-10T12:09:00.000+01:00

"Human capital is a nation's greatest asset."

"Think back. No, really think back."

"We don't need statistics..."

"No country attracts overseas investment like we do."

"Britain is not a follower today, Britain is a leader."

"A country comfortable in the 21st century."

"Without the Labour party allowing me to lead it, nothing could ever have been done."

"Decision-making is hard."

"Not an answer. The answer."

"It means doing what you generally believe to be right."

"People think that you act according to some messianic zeal."

"Sierra Leone."

"Kosovo."

"September the 11th, 2001."

"Shoulder to shoulder."

"And so Afganistan, and then Iraq."

"Blowback."

Sorry, did he just admit to a link between Iraq and increasing global terrorism? Better late than never, I suppose.

UPDATE! UPDATE! STAY ALERT! UPDATE! LOOK HERE!

I knew I had heard what it was that I thought was what I heard:

"Removing Saddam and his sons from power, as with removing the Taliban, was over with relative ease.

But the blowback since, from global terrorism and those elements that support it, has been fierce and unrelenting and costly. For many, it simply isn’t and can’t be worth it."

That is an admittance that the Iraq war has multiplied the terrorist threat.

Now, do you think Hillary Benn's speech about not calling 'The War on Terror', 'The War on Terror' was a neat bit of positioning to help Blair out? If we're now not calling it 'The War on Terror' then the increase in 'Terror' is not a failure but more a side-effect; something which is inevitable in our war on... oh. What are we at war on now?

Bye

2007-05-10T11:52:00.000+01:00

It's nice to see Blair shoulder to shoulder with himself right until the end. As the Prime Minister who refused to cut-and-run cuts and runs, we (me) here at The Balloon would like to pay tribute to him and all the good he has done over the past ten years.

But we can't.

'Cos he's a cunt.

P.S. Can the local Labour pricks in Sedgefield not see the irony of singing "Things can only get better"?

P.P.S. Phillip Gould just mentioned Tony Blair's balls on the BBC.

Off the hook, bwah!

2007-05-04T11:29:00.000+01:00

So, that slippery bastard has gone and done it again. Labour did badly last night but nowhere close to the kicking they should have gotten. The country has let Blair off again so he can wander off into the middle-eastern sunset with a nice Northern Irish press op as a golden watch for his ten years of service.

The Government's crack squad of excuse makers hit the airwaves this morning to talk about how, yes they had not done very well but there again neither had the tories. The whole fucking charade has become more and more tasteless with each new week.

The Government's official line is "mid-term blues" which is so offensive, I cannot believe it. It denotes some kind of political M.E; something is wrong but no one can quite put their finger on it. I'll tell you the problem you arseholes: you are nothing more than self-denying tories who constantly tell yourselves you're doing good whilst tearing the arse out of the country. You're the Beverley Allett of politics. Inflation and unemployment continue to grow, house prices are through the roof because the city grows ever more rampant, the NHS is dying a slow lingering death despite the billions that have been thrown at it, schools are failing and 600,000 people at least have been killed in Iraq because of the cowed and snivelling decisions that you made as you deferred to a foreign leadership hell-bent on proto-facist takeover of a free nation. The Government and it's apologists in the press deserved a far worse beating than they got last night. It's a damn shame.

All this and we've still got the Tories to look forward to.

What I want to know is...

2007-05-03T15:49:00.000+01:00

Why does Michael Parkinson still consider himself to be a journalist? Brian Sewell was bang on when he called him a "complacent prick".

Chapter two of our exciting adventure

2007-04-27T13:22:00.000+01:00

"Goodballoon! You're back!"
"Captain Goodballoon, if you don't mind." I said as I stepped from the gangplank of the HMS Krakatoa. The land felt strange beneath my feet; foreign and sordid. One of these was literally true, the other: figurative and sexy. She looked like she had when I had left eighteen months ago, although I hadn't remembered her being quite so pregnant.
"How was the war, my darling?" she breathed. "The papers are calling you a hero."
"The papers are only partially right, Helen. Sure, I'm a hero, but there are so many others too."
"None like you, Jasper."
"No, you're correct." She had been the light and love of my life. She had swept me off of my feet (figurative) back in 1937 in Paris when I was a slip of a lad. I was bright-eyed and naive, she was the charitable young woman that had relieved me of the dead weight of my virginity. It was like an albatross around my thighs and she cut the ropes and tugged it off. I loved everything about her: the gleam in her blue eyes, the bounce of her blonde hair, the way she smiled as I gave her the money for the services she performed.
"Jasper, it is so nice to see you. You have been gone so long." She smiled sweetly but meekly. Something was up.
"What is it, my dear?" I muttered.
"Don't mutter." she said.
"Sorry. It's something nasty I picked up in Singapore." It wasn't the only nasty thing I picked up in Singapore. My open sores would testify to that.
"I have something I need to tell you, Jasper. Now promise you won't be mad."
"I promise my dear." I spoke in earnest, unaware that those self-same open sores would help me on my way to insanity within six months.
"Jasper, I... we are having a baby." She blushed feintly as she said this. I was in shock. I had been away for a year and a half. I was not expecting this.
"Oh darling..." I was dizzy with a miz of happiness, error and antibiotics. "Oh darling, it will be the biggest baby in the World!"
"Yes! Yes!" she was giddy like a schoolgirl. Being thirteen she was giddy and a schoolgirl.
"Hold me, your majesty." I whispered as I squeezed her right royal frame.

Next week: It came after dark!

Death wears a trilby!

2007-04-20T15:27:00.000+01:00

I don't know how long she'd been standing there, but her disgusted expression said it had been a while. I stood up, did up and tucked myself in, all the while trying to give the impression I hadn't meant to be doing what I was doing by tutting at my penis.
"Mr Goodballoon?" she said. I didn't want to commit.
"Maybe. Who's asking?"
"My name is Gretchen Mounten. My husband is Lance Mounten."
"The millionaire oil baron?" I asked, "Yeah, I'm Goodballoon." I'd probably jumped the gun a little at that. She smirked and looked me up and down, or maybe it was the other way around. I looked her up and down and smirked a little myself. We smirked a couple o' minutes more, our heads rocking up and down like the pump-jacks her husband owned. I took her in, or at least as far as you could take a broad of her size in. She had curves for two and she knew it.
"You like what you see, Mr Balloon?" she asked.
"It's Goodballoon, sweetheart." I hardballed. She wasn't getting me on the hook so easy. I'd known broads like her before. They always wanted one thing; when they realised I didn't have much of that thing, their attention wavered. I knew one who had actually asked after it the first time I met her. She drove straight off as soon as I described it. Rude, I'd call that.
"Sorry, Mr Goodballoon... or can I call you Jasper?"
"Let's keep it civil for now, Mrs Mounten. What can I do for you today?"
"It's my husband, Mr Goodballoon." She quivered slightly, her eyes darting to the floor. I followed them and realised house slippers with a suit is not the image I was after.
"Your old man? What of him?" I was getting sick of this phony act of hers. She wanted something and wouldn't ask for it. When I want something, I ask, like that time I wanted a spare tyre at the garage. "Can I have a tyre for my car?" I had asked.
"No." They had said, but at least I had asked. Anyway...
Mrs Mounten piped up.
"My husband... he's very much alive, Mr Goodballoon."
"Uh-huh. Good for him."
"Well that's my point: I want him dead." I looked her hard in the eye as her baby-blues drilled straight back at me. What the hell was she thinking? Why me? Why now? This broad was something else. Her bust was something else again. At that moment the door to the bathroom swung open. A figure stood in the doorway eyeing us suspiciously.
"You two gonna be long, I need to clean the cubicles before four?" she said. We left quickly.

Next episode: The assassin wore a tabard.

It was forty years ago today

2007-04-13T20:43:00.000+01:00

This is an unbridled pleasure. Jesus Christ! I'd like to add more but at this point words would be pointless.

Er...

2007-04-06T15:31:00.000+01:00

So the Marines and sailors that have been released are suggesting that they were ill-treated by the Iranians during their 13 days in captivity. Acording to reports they were blindfolded, kept in isolation and questioned at random times.

Sky News is today reporting that Captain Chris Air, the commanding officer of the fifteen marines, admitted to their journalist that they were gathering intelligence on Iran whilst on patrol.

So the Iranians were right.

Britain was lying.

Oh. We're the bad guys, aren't we?

Fuck-a-doodle-do!

2007-04-06T12:28:00.000+01:00

Bad news! Awful bloody news actually. Take a looksee here. Go on.

Have you ever heard anything quite so stupid in your life? Now I am not Pepper's biggest fan; it is an album so over-rated it makes Coldplay look like a much maligned gathering of musical geniuses (rather than the plodding nursery rhyme shite-stream that they actually are) but it is still significantly better than anything that all of the other people mentioned in that article combined will ever produce.

Would I like to hear James Morrison's version of 'Lovely Rita, Meter Maid'? Would you like me to push a hacksaw blade down your urethra? The Fratelli's doing 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds', you say? Excuse me whilst I cut my ears out with some pointy chipboard and freed them to Bono's chimp.

Listen up all involved: you are all worthless, second-rate, indie sing-along wank stains who couldn't write a decent melody if it came up and shat in your overly coiffured hairdo. Don't touch, look at or even gesture towards any of The Beatles cannon without first genuflecting in front of a picture of Saint George (of Liverpool) and deeming yourselves unworthy of his postmortem attention.

We live in sick and twisted times where an arched eyebrow posturing as a band (Kaiser Chiefs) can consider itself a decent replacement for the greatest entity that has ever stepped on the Earth (and that includes you Mohammed).

God! This has made me angry. It's taken the edge of my Good Friday torture party.

Memories

2007-04-02T10:36:00.000+01:00

Hello children. Come on in. That's right, come in. Don't cry now, I'm not going to hurt you. Sit yourselves down 'cos it's time for a story.

And that story is this:

And it goes likes this:

Which is:

The Stabbing Robot is dead. He died over the weekend. He went to a better place with Inca inscriptions on the wall and low fences for his sheep to jump over. I shall miss that stabbing robot but not as much as I miss his dream machine with it's magical pictures of wizards and bowling alleys. Here are a few memories I have of the robot and all his high-jinks (the dead bastard):

- He once got a robot disease which meant he shat and puked at the same time. Good job that bath was near the toilet.

- He once laughed very hard at the thought of two brothers having sex with each other.

- I once saw his testicle. Huuuuuueeeeeerrrrrrkkkkkkkk!

- Muppets running.

RIP Stabbing Robot. You big cock.

Not a good day for Mr C.

2007-03-29T16:02:00.000+01:00

David Cameron is not having a very good time today. Not only must he take down the windmill from his roof just a few days after putting it up, but he's also been reprimanded for misusing his parliamentary office for fund-raising.

What a prick.

£1,000,000...

2007-03-29T14:35:00.000+01:00

...will go to the person who can tell me what the fuck Hunter Davies is talking about in The Guardian today. Does it make sense to you, 'cos I cannot work out what his point is.

Progress

2007-03-23T13:31:00.000Z

I am pleased to say that one of the great questions of life has been answered by a Japanese television programme. The best researchers, producers and scientists in all of Land of the Rising Sun scratched their heads, hummed and hawwed and finally got video evidence that a chimpanzee cannot bully a bulldog into doing sit-ups.

This is quite amusing

2007-03-22T12:59:00.000Z

I saw this at The Urban Woo today:

THE TEN LONDON TRANSPORT COMMANDMENTS
1) Thou shalt walk whenever possible, but always from Charing Cross to Embankment.
2) Thou shalt have thine Oyster Card in thine hand when thou reachest the ticket barriers, and not stand there, rummaging through thine bag for five minutes, like a tool.
3) Thou shalt not consume fragrant foodstuffs or alcohol, unless thou art a vagrant.
4) Thou shalt attend to personal hygiene. In particular, if thou hast been wassailing heartily the night before, thou shalt take special care to brush thine teeth in the morning.
5) Thou shalt talk quietly, or not at all, on thine mobile phone when on the bus – nobody else wants to hear who Emma did last night or how much Liam spent on his sodding shoes. Furthermore, thou shalt endeavour to stop those who wish to share their choice of music on loudspeaker, even though thou risketh being stabbed till thou art dead.
6) Thou shalt not whistle.
7) Thou shalt not press the “open” button on tube doors as this is the mark of the tourist.
8) Thou shalt not duck, dive or bomb. And though shalt most certainly not heavy pet.
9) If thou art not sure how to get off an escalator, or where to stand, thou shalt not get on it.
10) Thou shalt not wear darke glasses underground. Ye nobs.

Of course I have a driver and a car, but I'm sure this means something to someone.

Complex God

2007-03-21T15:52:00.000Z

Not too long ago I was propositioned by one of the World's leading film stars (I can't say who) into joining his mysterious and controversial religion. He told me of the influence his group had, the effects it could have on my life and the amount of easy poontang that was available at their High Church over in Hollywood. I was on a plane immediately.

The church was a large and smart office building stuffed full of bright young men and women with relaxed smiles, healthy physiques and belief in spaceships; I knew this was the place for me. I was inducted into the religion with a series of tests that checked just how liable to scream I was when burnt. By their measurements I was 84% too likely to scream and as such I was put on the bronze pony-track system which would move me toward the ultimate goal of total silencity.

Over the next eight years I spent nearly £600,000 ($12,000,000) on the programme and slowly but sure moved from my weak and pathetic screaming to almost total stoicism in the face of fire. Finally I managed a full chip pan of oil over my chest with barely a whimper and it was time for me to be given the secret.

I was led to a dowdy, temporary classroom in the rear yard area of the High Church, and was given a small child-size plastic seat. I sat and waited for what seemed like an age until Mr Doyle, the number two at the Church, entered with a manilla folder under his arm. He placed the folder on the small table in front of me and told me to "Look now for you shall never see this again." He left and I opened the folder to be confronted with what could only be described as a picture of Hell itself. Any law you can think of was being broken, each virtue we believe to be true was being cast aside. Innocence was being wrenched from children, the elderly were sullied and mocked by wild animals, the dress-code was defecation! And there at the centre of it all was the man that had led me into all of this; the Hollywood star.

Who was it? I cannot say, but I would urge anyone who does find out to keep it to themselves. These people are not to be trifled with and one wrong move could mean certain death.

Longhurstian candidate

2007-03-20T22:40:00.000Z

If you see this man, don't allow him to buy your licenced premises from you!

I like it when he comes back through the door

2007-03-20T19:47:00.000Z

Context:
Over-rated and pretentious director David O. (for orally-fixated pederast) Russell is having a tough day with actor Lily Tomlin on the set of his crapola film 'I heart Huckerbees' (or is it 'Huckabees'?). She claims she is being deluged with information by the man that was knocked on his arse by George Clooney during the shooting of 'Three Kings'. Have a look whilst it's still available:

Four glorious years

2007-03-20T17:42:00.000Z

Congratulations Georgie and Tony. Thanks for the cash. See you in Iran.

Oh God! A stabbing robot!

2007-03-17T23:00:00.000Z

Hey there you crazy crackers (and blacks and yellows) just a word about a new friend to us here at the paunch called The Stabbing Robot. I would link to him from inside this post but Safari is a piece of shit and won't let me do it so you'll have to make do with the link over on the left.

Drop by and leave a comment (preferably something offensive) and do it quick 'cos he'll lose interest soon and ignore it.

No hard feelings

2007-03-16T11:28:00.000Z

In fact, no feelings at all in my left leg. Anyway, the lads and lassies that have been doing the Comic Relief blog book have finished it all just in time and it should be available for purchase sometime today. If you take a long hard look at the list of 100 blogs that are included you shall see I'm not included... hold on! What? Are they nuts? Jesus wept, what is the world coming to when some dirty cow talking about wanking beats out a dirty old man talking about w... Oh, fair enough. Here's a link to all the things and that.

Oh! It was one guy.

2007-03-15T10:31:00.000Z

See, I remember when Blair and Bush needed support for the war we kept being told that Al Qaeda was a compartmentalised organisation made up of independent cells that could strike at any time without instruction or support from a central core.

Apparently that was bollocks. Apparently one fella did EVERYTHING! It was Groucho here that done it:

Well thankfully the USA has got the bastard so we're all safe. Hurrah!

A simple life

2007-03-13T15:59:00.000Z

It is not a well known fact but there was a period of time when I gave up the rat-race and opted, instead, for a simpler and, I hoped, less stressful existence. In 1984 with Thatcher at the height of her considerable powers, I felt that I had achieved quite enough and headed for the sticks.

I found myself in Suffolk with a farmhouse, a farmhand and pharmacy's supply of uppers and downers - I was absolutely positive I was going to enjoy this time even if it killed me. Alas it killed me.

It was one Thursday afternoon and we had just finished slaughtering a pig. Michael had kicked the pig for twenty minutes but this had had almost no impact on it. I threw part of a fence at the pig and then a car jack from a 1978 Ford Cortina - again, nothing. Eventually we drove the whole Cortina at the pig and that did the job. In celebration we popped what we believed were MDMA pills and treated each other to a lapdance.

My lapdance from Michael was pleasant enough and when it was my turn to dance for him I tried my best to make it as sexy as possible; easier said than done when you are in your late sixties. Anyway, something blew in my heart and I hit the floor at roughly the same speed the Cortina had hit the pig. Wheezing and snuffling I begged Michael for help but by now he was too far gone to be of any assistance. What to do?

I looked over at the pig... he was snorting his last breaths. A bad writer might have made more of the symmetry of our positions. I crawled toward the pig and grasped his head pulling my ancient, spasming frame to him. I pushed my mouth to his and took the animals final few breaths as it's legs kicked against my chest starting my heart once more.

I have never had a chance to thank that pig before but I'd like to thank him now. Thank you pig. You were delicious.

Comic relief thang

2007-03-10T02:10:00.000Z

Here's a thing for people with these things that might do some good, but I'm not sure how. Anyway, go and have a look here and inundate the lad with stuff and save the kiddies... or something.

Office politics

2007-03-09T16:52:00.000Z

I once knew a chap that was forced to work in an office that he was not in charge of. I know for many of you this will be an idea as alien as nineteen simultaneously existing dimensions, metaphysical portile trivialisation or a Snow Patrol tune that didn't make you want to open a vein from tail to top and empty it's contents all over a newborn lamb, but this does happen to some people. This fella gave me a list of truths and half-truths about working in an office which I feel I should share (what with him being unable to due to disability):

- If a male member of staff has a day off sick the first person to mention "man-flu" on his return is the stupidest person in the office.

- If there are four people in your line of sight, three of them will make you feel physically sick. Number four you will merely wish death upon.

- Lunchtime is never quite the Malibu beach party you'd expect.

- Sick days are far more convincing in twos than ones. Three may be a bridge too far.

- It really doesn't matter what you do in terms of quality of work so long as you talk about it as loud as possible. If you are able to talk over someone you will almost certainly get credit for your work and their work.

- People who sing along to the radio are absolute unbridled twats.

As I say I have no idea what any of this is about, but it may be of interest to someone.

Natural Police

2007-03-07T21:44:00.000Z

Just a word about the last post; that was a scene from HBO's majestic 'The Wire'. The fella saying "Sheeeeeit" is Senator Clay Davis, a man who makes Karl Rove seem like a moral giant when it comes to the volatile mix of cash and politics, and the video was a loving tribute to his sometime catchphrase of "Sheeeeeit" from a smart-arse with an editing package - My hat is off to you, Sir.

Below is an actual scene from 'The Wire' and I would urge you to spend the next three and three-quarter minutes taking a look, but first a little context:

These two are Jimmy McNulty and his partner in the Baltimore Police Department homicide division, William 'Bunk' Moreland. They approach the scene of a cold murder case; six months have passed since the investigation was fudged by detectives too interested in overtime to care. Armed with only a few pictures of the crime scene they piece the events of one night half a year ago, back together:

Fuck me.

Four series down, one to go

2007-03-07T10:19:00.001Z

SH-ITV

2007-03-06T12:37:00.000Z

So poor old ITV have suspended all their premium-rate telephone dewberries for the present, eh? Let it not be said that they aren't honest and upright and quick to respond in a crisis... or painted into a corner and pre-empting an Ofcom report that will lead to management firings and potentially criminal investigations. One of the two.

Over at No.10 we have no such moral courage with Tom Kelly, the gentleman that referred to Dr. David Kelly as a "Walter Mitty" character, being fingered as the source for the email leak to the BBC in order to scupper the cash for honours investigation. The Guardian is reporting a separate legal document in which Ruth Turner suggests that Michael Levy may have suggested certain evidence disappear, change shape or get a face lift.

I have come across the following email which, I think you shall find, blows the lid on everything. Cast your minds back to February 2005 when Mr. Blair was to appear on Richard and Judy's show on Channel 4. Here is an email from two days preceding his appearance:

"Richard & Judy,

Just a final email to firm up a few things for TB's appearance on Thurs. Obviously we trust you both implicitly but there are one or two areas which we would rather the convers. did not linger for long if poss. These are:

Iraq
His heart
Cherie
Gordon
Hutton
David Kelly
Henry Kelly
Suicide attempts of any type
Education
Railtrack
Robin Cook
Milburn
Football
Government

If these could be avoided that would be marvellous. Also, re: his appearance on 'You say, we pay' - he's happy to do it but this time we want at least 50% of the take. We shall supply the caller so as to ensure no nasty surprises.

That's the lot. See you Thurs.

Tom"

Explosive stuff, what? I couldn't believe when I was sent it by Michael Grade and Tony Blair, but there you are.

Cap up my ass

2007-03-02T17:41:00.000Z

When you're a hard-hitting drug slinger in the projects of Baltimore sometimes you need to drop a nigger. That's the rules of the street I'm afraid. I didn't want to do it; I still don't.

The same rules apply when it comes to baked goods. I once had to fuck up Asher and Kipling with a pick-axe handle 'cos they stepped on my territory (all Morrisons stores North West of Glastonbury to the Welsh border). Unfortunately the pick-axe handle was made of fondant and caused a little less damage than I might have wanted. They did look funny though. Ha-ha!

As the years went on in our cake war all sides took hits. I lost a shipment of flour to Mary Berry, Mary Berry lost 1000 gallons of icing (Mr. Icing to our American friends) to Jacobs. Oh the humanity.

Over the last few years there has been an uneasy truce observed bewtween all parties. I stepped out of the sweets racket and moved my cash into another altogether more difficult arena - soft drinks. If you hear of a missing Dr. Pepper this weekend, don't say a fucking word.

Early Day Motions

2007-03-01T12:34:00.000Z

David Amess has tabled an Early Day Motion that says this:

"That this House congratulates Dame Helen Mirren, a former resident of Leigh-on-Sea in Southend and former pupil of St Bernard's High School, on her achievement of winning Best Actress at the 79th Academy Awards for her portrayal of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II in `The Queen'; acknowledges her contribution to British acting; and wishes her every success for the future."

EDM's cost around £290 each for printing and publishing. That figure does not include the time MP's are sitting around signing them. So far this EDM has 28 signiatures. I hope Mr Amess gets at least a blowy for it.

Sprung is Spring

2007-03-01T12:22:00.000Z

Isn't March lovely? So much nicer than February. Anyone born in March is probably a sexy genius or a misguided romantic with a steel streak of courage in their guts. Anyway, so far March has been a sunny joy of bubbles, flowers and frolicing ponies.

When will this torment end?

Why must the sun shine? Why must it's gentle rays expose the fissures and cracks on my skin, the liver spots and undereye bags (Ha! Bags would be fine; these sad-sacks would put Donatella Versace's luggage allowance to shame). I have three remaining wirey hairs which are far too brittle to comb-over so now nestle against my enormous ear-lobe. My false teeth are older than most adults I know and I fear that my knees may never bend straight again.

At least I still have music.

The Feeling. The Killers. The View. The Kooks. All of the 'The' bands are doing such innovative and exciting things with sounds that it feels like the sixties all over again... or at least one year of the seventies.

I am so glad I have the means to pay for semenal extraction. I couldn't get laid with Helen Keller.

Tender touch

2007-02-28T16:01:00.000Z

Hello kiddies,

I'm back from my short medical break. It h'rt. It h'rt bad. Thanks for all the get well messages and comments, I really... oh wait! I didn't get any. Thanks a bungle (sic).

Part of my convalescence was spent watching the Oscars which were awfully good, weren't they?

No. They were rubbish.

See you later.

Farewell

2007-02-16T22:10:00.000Z

I'm off to get a bit of work done; couple of things need snipping, a few more need lifting and one either needs removing entirely or at the very least pushing in. Have lovely time and wish me luck.

Bastards!

2007-02-16T11:34:00.000Z

Look at this scum-bag:

It's the most illegal book in the UK. By reading it you shall be aiding and abetting law-breakers. Do not buy it.

Don't do it. And don't look at this.

Hurrah & huzzah!

2007-02-16T10:39:00.000Z

I implore and urge you all to take a look here. In said article Geoffrey Levy talks about the statue of Lady Thatcher that is to be unveiled in the House of Commons next week.

It is a monumental piece of writing by a man bravely ignoring all emperical evidence to instead concentrate on how this fabulous woman stirred his loins. He writes,

"She stood, proud and uncompromising, over this country for eleven glorious years; her natural radiance filling the hearts of all that heard her voice, saw her face or felt her soft, sweet touch."

Actually, he doesn't write that, but you feel that he should.

I have talked at length about my work for the Government over the years, here for instance. Whilst Lady Thatcher never quite did it for me (I was quite unmoved by those ankles so beloved of Alan Clarke) I always had a soft spot for Dennis. I'd see him at drinks parties at No.10 wobbling around behind Lady T and would get the warmest feeling down in my nethers. He was so friendly and we had so much in common, particularly our attitude to the ethnic minorities, that it was as much as I could do to try it on right there. I didn't; I knew Bill Deedes had his claws well in there, and one doesn't mess with Fleet Street if one can help it.

Anyway, God bless you Lady T. Here's to another eighty-one years.

A decent Bush

2007-02-14T14:39:00.000Z

This is from 'The Smoking Gun', I believe:

"FEBRUARY 13--Government officials have rejected a Florida man's bid to trademark the term "Obama bin Laden," ruling that the conflation of the names of a U.S. Senator and the world's leading terrorist was "scandalous" and wrongly suggested a connection between the politician and the mass murderer. In a February 6 decision, U.S. Patent and Trademark Office attorney Karen K. Bush informed applicant Alexandre Batlle of her decision not to register the trademark."

Now, there's a great deal going on in here. What's the betting that were you to investigate Mr. Batlle's background one would find official connections to a political group or another (you can't rule out any interested parties, if you get my drift). My interest, though, is in the comments on Bin Laden.

The description of him as "the world's leading terrorist" is a joy; is there some league table of terror that has him just holding off a Colombian for the number one spot? The other thing is the "mass murderer" description; I'm not sure that this has been proven. We have been told he was responsible for September the 11th, he may have even claimed to be responsible for September the 11th, but that doesn't make him responsible for September the 11th.

God made September the 11th and I'm looking forward to this years September the 11th a great deal.

Haiku

2007-02-12T21:22:00.000Z

It is Winter time,
Snow,ice and rain lash Britain,
Trains don't run on time.

My prostate is large,
It halts my urination,
And disturbs my sleep.

A blow-job is fun,
But can be a risky thing,
If you wear dentures.

I am an old man,
My eyes are weak and feeble,
But I still like tits.

Evil infidels,
Shall be beheaded he says,
On you tube dot com.

I'm a pretentious
And wanky middle-class prick,
But I'm also bored.

He's gone and done it again

2007-02-11T22:18:00.000Z

Dear Jonathan Ross,

Just so you know:

Worst. Baftas. Ever. Stay off the TV, mate. Stick to radio.

If I'm having trouble understanding what he's saying, what hope has Penelope Cruz got?

Last King of Scotland? Give me a break! What a crock of shite.

Oh, and actors: Please stop leaving the script. Simon Pegg is a comedian. Ricky Gervais is a comedian. Damien Lewis, you are a ginger bollocks who landed on his feet. Don't write your own stuff. If you could write your own material you'd be what is known as a "writer". They're the fuckers who work on the same thing for three years so that you can turn up having read the script once and say, "My character wouldn't say this." Pricks.

I'm halfway through these things but I wonder, is anyone actually going to collect their award. Wow! It's so well respected that not even the special effects people could be arsed to pull themselves away from their Playstation 3.

God, this country is embarrassing.

GNL

2007-02-11T17:39:00.000Z

"Yo! Whas happening 'Merica?"

Those were the first words I uttered when I guest hosted Saturday Night Live for the first time. I had had some success with a review I had put on in New York entitled 'Writers block'. It featured me on stage for an hour and a half (with an interval) staring at the back of a cereal box. Occasionally I would stand and walk to the sink in the apartment set, then return to the breakfast table and look at the cereal box again.

Lorne Michaels, the head honcho of SNL (as we call it) came to the show one evening and asked me to be on his programme (program in the States). I immediately said no because it was sub-standard slop. He told me what they paid and I changed my mind.

The filming of the show went smoothly enough considering I had not had the time, nor the inclination, to rehearse. Dana Carvey put me at my ease almost instantaneously. Such a nice... er... person (I never did work out whether Dana was a boy's or a girl's name). The evening of our show was also the debut of a certain Ben Stiller who wowed the audience with a grumpy, egocentric, over-acted character which he went on to use in almost every film he's been in.

After the recording I got a great many offers from Hollywood for various cameos and bit-parts, but I turned them all down. That one taste of the big time was enough for me; I returned to England the next day to face the charges.

Now, where's that cereal box?

Who's third?

2007-02-09T11:36:00.000Z

Anna Nicole

Ian Richardson

Who?

Please let it be Dermot Murnaghan.

Letterbocks

2007-02-07T20:35:00.000Z

Having been weigh-laid with a touch of cat AIDS this week I have found myself prisoner to the rolling twenty-four hour news channels. I'd rather be in Abu Ghraib. The quality of the presentation on these murals of mediocrity is second to everything with misspelt captions, miscued VT and mysteriously employed presenters. How does Kay Burley justify the inordinant amount of money she inevitably earns for her sub-standard performance of a lunchtime? Is the skating tiring her out?

The biggest problem for these channels though is the lack of news, or rather the lack of news they can turn into a three-act mystery. A young man's murder in Peckham becomes a morality tale for our time (how else to explain the entirely unrelated Damilola Taylor murder mention on ITV), the spate of letterbombs a detective story to be solved. Not to belittle the stress that the victims of these attacks have been put through but I've shat and affected more people than these bangers have so far; why such wall-to-wall coverage?

There are more important stories occuring not least THE NEVER-ENDING AND ALWAYS TERRIFYING WAR IN IRAQ! Yesterday we had an Iranian diplomat kidnapped by what looks like Iraqi soldiers. This has the potential to begin a series of tit-for-tat events that could lead to the widening of the war to encompass the entire Persian Gulf. Anyone interested? Are they fupp!

Tomorrow it'll be delayed trains and England friendlies. I'm bored already.

Damn you, cat AIDS!

The Beatles

2007-02-02T16:54:00.000Z

I cannot overstate my love for The Beatles. I adore The Beatles. I love The Beatles. They are everything a band should be. Musically, they were untouchable; visually, they were unimpeachable (although I think two of them have probably seen better days). They did everything right from the Hamburg-echoing hiss and clutter of 'Please please me' through to the sonic sunshine of 'Abbey Road' this was a group who, in my dimming eye, deserved every word of praise issued at them.

Listen to records again. go on, I'll wait.

What did you hear?
"The Beatles," you say "I've heard it.". Well yes, you heard The Beatles the same way that you've heard them a million times before. I want you to listen in a different way.

A much younger(ahem) friend remembers being a child in the 1980's and hearing George Harrison's 'Cloud Nine' album. He asked his dad about Harrison and the parent told him he had been in The Beatles. My friend says it struck him like a thunderbolt that The Beatles had been people; not some all conquering monster sent by God as "The best band in the World", but a group of young men with some musical instruments. Nothing more. No special advantage. No special privilege. They were four "shit-kickers" (Thanks Ringo) who worked hard and struck it lucky.

Listen to those albums again.

Hear it? What. The footsteps on the floor of studio 2. The air-conditioner buzzing in the background. Missed notes. Forgotten chords. The same as any other band, The Beatles stumbled and staggered and got up and played again. These were four boys in ordinary rooms with six-string guitars and tea towels over their drumskins. Yes, they had musical ability (more than they are often given credit for). But listen to how they changed, how they progressed. That's the sound of education and improvement. Of people looking around and taking things in (sometimes inhaling) and letting it shape the way they think.

As I say, I love The Beatles. I could go on for hours about their use of chords, McCartney's positive post-'Revolver' leadership of the group or Ringo's tom-tom fills on 'A Day in the life' but this isn't a musicology essay. This is about how you approach this band; next time you put on 'Rubber soul' and hear 'In my life' look over at the acoustic guitar in the corner of your room and try to imagine how much hard work went into writing that beautiful song. Imagine what it took to stop being lauded for ten minutes to come up with 'Drive my car'.

As I say, I love The Beatles. If you don't, then you don't but do yourself a favour and spend three and a half minutes with 'hey Bulldog' before dismissing them completely:

Only an embedded video from You Tube!

2007-02-02T14:29:00.000Z

This is good:

Read all about it!

2007-02-02T12:04:00.000Z

Funny headline on NewsBiscuit! Internet in shock!

"Italian waiter with normal sized pepper mill disappoints hen party."

It's not amazing but compared to the usual crud that kicks about on their it ain't bad. There was a story to go with it but obviously I didn't read that.

The stuff on there is just so often sub-standard; it's a strange amalgam of the socio-political, the twee and the absurd which doesn't quite work. Look at this from today's front page:

"Turin shroud dyed pink in washing machine bungle.

The Turin Shroud, believed by many to be the last veil of Jesus Christ, has been accidentally thrown in a washing machine by a contract cleaner at the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist in Turin. Worse news was to follow when the sacred relic was discovered to have been died pink by an errant red T-shirt.

The mistake was noticed half way through the economy spin cycle after a cardinal raised the alarm that the shroud had gone missing.
‘I just couldn’t believe it” said cleaner Rosa-Maria Delarosa. ‘The bishop himself came running in and asked where the shroud was. You should have seen their faces when I explained. It was like something you see in one of those prank shows. I half expected a TV crew to pop out any minute. Sadly they didn’t."

There's no real joke there. Nothing. The 'dying your clothes pink' is as old as I am and ceased to be funny in as I became pubic. The idea that someone put the shroud in the wash is silly, but that doesn't mean it's funny. Surely there would be more material if the image had been washed away rather than the whole thing dyed pink. It's unfair to pick on one story but this is about the standard on the site.

What's that? Sour grapes? Don't be silly. I don't care that they didn't publish my articles that I put in...

WHY WOULDN'T THEY PUBLISH MY FUNNY STORIES? WHY? I'M AS FUNNY AS THEM BUT THEY WOULDN'T PUT THEM ON THEIR FRONT PAGE. IT'S NOT FAIR! IT'S NOT FAIR!

There is a God...

2007-02-01T16:43:00.000Z

...and he's a gag-writer:

Finish this sentence: 28 days...

2007-02-01T14:57:00.000Z

Good title that.

Why?

Cos this is about the Home Office, and in particular that useless bald turncoat tracksuit-wearing cock-head John Reid, wanting to extend the 28 day detention without charge period for those arrested under terrorist laws. It would be laughable, were it not so fucking terrifying, that at exactly the same moment this jack-booted, authoritarian prick is trying to remove the rights of those arrested but not charged, No.10 is issuing statements backing Ruth Turner and pointing out that she hasn't been charged and should be given the benefit of the doubt.

Double standards. Neigh!

The Prime Minister's spokesman said this:

"Given the continuing trend and experience over the last year, [the home secretary] now believes it is worth trying once again to convince parliament and the nation that going further would be a useful tool in the counter-terror effort."

The continuing trend is one of a sub-par set of middle-stream ministers throwing legislation at a problem and hoping to shoo it away and that's been going on for ten years at least.

Next episode: More jokes about penises.

Panic on the streets of... Arggghhhhhh!!!

2007-01-31T16:22:00.000Z

So Levy was nicked when he returned to the police station as part of his bail terms. Now that is class, isn't it? Yates of the Yard stays exactly where he is and his lordship comes to him. No early morning starts, no sore shoulder from busting down doors... lovely stuff.

Of course, it was a very different matter in Birmingham where early door kicking parties were very much the done thing this morning. We hear now that nine people have been arrested as part of these terror raids with Sky reporting a plot to behead a British Muslim serviceman. Many amateur conspiracy theorists are saying how very convenient it is the very morning after Levy's arrest.

Well, the amateurs would say that... we pro's see things a little differently.

I think you'll find that these terror raids were a normal part of an ongoinging investigation carried out by Police and security services; well it says so here anyway.

The real news is elsewhere.

The death of Sidney Sheldon?
R'n'B singer Brandy sued by the family of someone who died in a car crash she initiated.
Aardman split from Dreamworks.

Here is the real hand of Government spin. For decades now the British government has been controlling the World's entertainment business in order to divert attention from their nefarious doings. Want proof? Fine.

On the 5th August 1966 the British Government released 'Revolver' an album written and recorded in Whitehall by senior civil servants and attributed to The Beatles. Is it a coincidence that only three days before on the 2nd the Spanish Government had forbidden British military flights from overflying Spain?

How about this?

October 9th 1975 - The British Government, led by Harold Wilson, create Saturday Night Live and broadcast it across America. This first show, presented by George Carlin, distracts the the UK from the explosion, two days previous, of a bomb outside Green Park Station. The IRA responds by piloting it's own sketched-based comedy show which failed to get commisioned by the BBC.

What more proof do you people need? It's all there. Check if you don't believe me!

Cretins.

UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE! WOO! UPDATE! LOOK OUT! UPDATE! UPDATE!

So you wanted more proof after all, eh? Well here you go! The Beautiful South have split after 19 years. Coincidence? Don't be ridiculous.

Closer than you think

2007-01-30T17:59:00.000Z

So Levy has been arrested for a second time. It just keeps getting closer doesn't it? Christ I hope I don't get fingered in all this. Well not by the police anyway.

Competition time

2007-01-30T17:10:00.000Z

If anyone can come up with a piece of news less interesting that the news that The Police are reforming for the Grammy awards I will personally play the rusty trombone on Sting until one of us passes out.

You love me! You really love me!

2007-01-30T12:25:00.000Z

"Thank you, thank you. Please sit down. Please.
(Pause as audience takes it's seat)
Thank you so much for this award; it means such a great deal. When I was a little boy growing up on our farm in Rhodesia, I would summon our slaves around me and would tell them I would one day be a huge film star, a towering presence on the stage, and be the author of a top-selling novel. The servants would shuffle around and communicate to one another in their own language, occasionally spitting towards me as a sign of respect. They loved me, but not as much as the members of the academy who voted for me to win this prize.
(More applause).
Whilst clearly this award is solely for me and my own efforts I would like to point out that I am moderately assisted in my endeavours by some skilled technicians who make me look moderately better than I already am. I am, of course, talking about my hairdresser. I look lustrous and thick and that is down to you Gianni, wherever you are.
(Gentle applause)
Thank you. There are those that say "Awards mean nothing. They are trinkets for fools who crave acceptance because they are dead inside." Those people have never one an award. I have and I think it's the greatest thing that will ever happen to me. Mind you, I thought that when I took part in that orgy with Sophia Loren but that is a distant second now. Oh! I see the band leader revving up; I better be quick. Let me just say that if this means half as much to you as it does to me then it probably means twice as much to those watching as it could ever mean to those of us in the room. I think Oscar Wilde put it best. Good night."

Fatherly advise

2007-01-29T22:19:00.000Z

If you are ever given the opportunity to strike a Hollywood legend, take it. These instances are fleeting, some would say rare, and if ignored will be lost forever to the winds of time like your late wife's ashes when you drop the urn during a misjudged illustration of circus skills (her mother was not impressed). Anyway, if an A-lister offers you his or her chin, crack it. I didn't and I regret it to this day.

Kirk Douglas had been a friend by association since he had lent David (Niven) his yacht 'The Laughing Bustard'. David, his wife Hjördis and I took a whistle stop tour around the Carribean during the Summer of 1956. It was a joyful two weeks of stolen moments beneath the blue sky as Nivers and I crept into each others arms and hearts. Upon our return to Los Angeles we were met by the angry face of Kirk Douglas.

Apparently some snot-faced little shit down Grenada way had spotted a shifty looking gentleman moving packages of what he described as "heroin" onto 'The Bustard' and had informed the constabulary. The matter was reported to the LA police who paid Mr Douglas a visit and questioned him about his movements. Kirk was livid and had marched down to the harbour to confront us.

He pinioned Nivers to a boathouse wall and demanded an explanation; the man was uncontrollable. As he spat his abuse at poor David his inviting chin bobbed up and down. I could easily reach it and knock him clean out. I would be a hero. A hero. Alas I did not strike out but merely slunk off to drown my sorrows.

I always regretted not hitting Kirk. His combination of good looks, acting talent, genuine charm and a moral conscience made him insufferably smug. David, of course, had nothing to do with any heroin and he was very alarmed by the altercation at the boatyard. Two years ago I got a second chance to strike Kirk Douglas and knew I couldn't not take it. He was being lifted out of a chair by a nurse when I went past him in a car I had hired for a visit to Hollywood and the surrounds. I stopped the car immediately and quick as a flash had my driver smack him to the ground. Hurrah! My foe was finally vanquished.

I did very well out of the heroin as well.

Police!

2007-01-29T15:18:00.000Z

Read this from the BBC:

"The world's oldest person, Emma Faust Tillman, has died in the US aged 114.
Mrs Tillman, the daughter of former slaves, died "peacefully" on Sunday night, said an official at a nursing home in Hartford, Connecticut.

She only became the world's oldest person last week, after the death of a 115-year-old man in Puerto Rico, the Guinness Book of World Records said."

The World's two oldest people die within a week of each other and no one is in the least suspicious. Something smells very fishy here... of course it could be Mrs Tilman.

Tired... so tired.

2007-01-29T14:44:00.000Z

Hello kiddies,

What's cooking? I'm ever so tired today. Really very fatigued. Now some of you might think you know why; you might say, "Oh! Mr Goodballoon, you live such a hectic lifestyle which such rich and fabulous friends that you're probably tired because you've done lots of cocaine to ease the effects of all the champagne you've quoffed. Your immune system and body-clock are probably in tatters."

You'd be right.

I'm in Los Angeles, California! Oh yeah! I spent the night partying at the Screen Actor's Guild awards. What an event that is; it's the equivilent of The South Bank Show awards and the Variety Club Awards all rolled into one. The big winner was Helen Mirren but I can't help but feel a little sorry for her at these occasions. Every time she wins a gong she has to kiss that dreadful husband of hers. He's no Rod Morgan, I can tell you.

Dame Helen is a woman who could turn even my cancerous old pate. Chesty and sexy and saucy and lovely and scrummy like a lovely, scrummy, chesty, sexy plate of saucy sausages. I think. I never know how to describe women. What should one compliment? The fanny (that's English for vagina)? A man is a much easier thing to say nice things about... watch and learn:

Clint Eastwood is a true gentleman. He is intelligent, interesting, inscrutable and other I words. His performances in High Plains Drifter, Dirty Harry and Star Wars make him one of the World's great film stars. He's a dab-hand behind the camera too. His penis is nearly three inches thick at the base. Mmmmmm.

See.

Bleeble

2007-01-26T17:41:00.000Z

If I'd known then what I know now I might have paid more attention to Rod Stewart.

A Creme Egg omelette is not quite as creamy as one would expect.

There's nowt so queer as gay folk.

Boredom is the brain's way of letting you know that it's bored.

According to Wet, Wet, Wet "The saddest thing I've ever seen on my TV screen, Was a dying man who died for his dream". The saddest thing I've ever seen on my TV screen was Wet, Wet, Wet.

By making you buy the Daily Mail, God is telling you that it's time to die. Painfully.

John Reid hasn't a chance

2007-01-26T12:52:00.001Z

Take a look at this man's face:

Have you ever seen a more trustworthy face? If that man commited a murder and they had a line-up it would be populated by seven Father Christmases and him, and he'd walk away a free man.

He is Rod Morgan and he has just resigned as the head of the Youth Justice Board of England and Wales. In a 'Newsnight' interview he says that the youth justice system, like the adult justice system, has been swamped by minor cases that had previously been dealt with informally. He points at a 26% increase in the number of young people and children that have entered the system in the last three years. It is yet more pressure on the laughable Dr John "toughboy" Reid.

Look at Rod's face again. Look at him. Look at him. Mmmmmmmmmmmm...

Cash for computers

2007-01-26T10:21:00.000Z

This cash for honours investigation is a very interesting affair. It's taking all kinds of twists and turns as it creeps toward the Prime Minister's office. Here is a follow up piece of information rearding the "second computer system" story form last night... all a bit beyond me really. I write this blog on paper with a borrowed pencil and get children to type it for me. They love me and would do anything for me Goodballoon is a prathead!!!

E-maily Lotus Notey thing c/o Guido Fawkes

Quick question

2007-01-25T22:17:00.000Z

If you were the producer of a popular reality television programme that had run into a little bit of difficulty over racist comments by one of your contributors, would you:

a) Stand by your decision to select said candidate saying that his or her opinions are representative of a section of society.

b) Scrap the series so as not to cause any more offence to the viewing public.

c) Stage and shoot new sequences with a black crew member posing as a candidate, then edit them into your remaining programmes in order to make it look like said contestant learns from the experience and changes their mind.

I know what I would do, but then again I'm not a TV big-nob so what do I know?

This may be bollocks...

2007-01-25T22:08:00.000Z

...but if it isn't then the end of the Blair-era may be a very large step closer.

Here is the link!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Stuff it all in your A

2007-01-25T12:27:00.000Z

It is astonishing just how boring humping and snorting can be. I've been so wealthy and so debauched for so long that I can't remember the last time I was truly excited... oh, hold on! It was 1987 and I'd just given Drew Barrymore her first line of cocaine. There's nothing like seeing a child star corrupted before your very eyes to quicken the heart and gladden the soul. Anyway, that's all I ever did with Drew; I'm not a complete pervert you know.

Ricky Gervais' strange website (it seems official and unofficial all at the same time, and not in a good way) is reporting that the American version of The Office could be about to earn him and Stephen Merchant $245,000,000 each. Apparently that is what Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld made when 'Seinfeld' was syndicated. I don't know what to say. Look at that number again. Go on, I'll wait. What are you thinking? Does it rhyme with "fucking hell"? Thought so.

It's good to see that finally the Catholic Church and the Anglican Church had found an area where they can get along, where they see eye-to-eye. I'm talking of their glorious union in the face of increasing rights for gay people. If only homo's had been around when The Troubles were kicking off, eh? Everyone could have warmed their cockles on the glorious site of a gaylord being shot through the kneecap rather than the horrible sectarianism we've been putting up with all these years. As long as it wasn't me. They could have had Nivers; he could have been a martyr, like Jesus.

Speaking of which...

The Sun has been crapping on like a big crap dispenser (Vernon Kaye) about Tom Cruise purportedly being a Christ figure to The Church of Scientology. A source close to Cruise (Cruise) said,

“Tom has been told he is Scientology’s Christ-like figure. Like Christ, he’s been criticised for his views. But future generations will realise he was right.”

Does that mean we get a crucifixion?

Sign on

2007-01-24T23:27:00.000Z

This blog is famous for not being viewed by anyone. Hold on... This blog is not famous for not being viewed by anyone. No one looks at it, no one reads it, no one even realises that it isn't being written by a computer programmed to accurately type the way a Down's syndromed chimp might and yet! Someone left a comment!

After I pasted the letter from the lad down in Guantanamo Bay (is that how you spell it?) into the paunch a young lady called Sara left a comment which you can see for yourself if you scroll down. One of the things she has done is start an online petition to get this lad released and looked after. So far, as of 11.30 on Wednesday night there are eight signatures. I know that the two of you reading this have very little to do so take a stroll here and lend your name to the thing. I know it probably won't do anything, but it's worth a punt for thirty seconds of your time.

Plus it'll make you feel better about all the wanking.

Joy of joys

2007-01-24T11:15:00.000Z

To make up for my sub-A level rant earlier, here's a funny video. Hurrah!

Awww... bless.

2007-01-24T10:31:00.000Z

So Little Bush did his thang last night. Exciting, no? I think there is some difficulty here at the deep end of the Atlantic understanding what in God's name is going on with the State of the Union address. The President stalks out and tells Congress (I believe) what's been going down, what will go down and if going down is due to be outlawed. He tells them the Union is strong and er... I don't get it. I understand that it's one of those things that has to be done but does anyone really give a shit? Its like the Queen's speech at the State Opening of Parliament; no one bar a few politicians and their hangers-on (I'm looking at you Nick Robinson) give a shit what is said 'cos it almost never resembles anything we see in reality or anything likely to happen.

The State of the Union is even more ridiculous because America doesn't really look very united from outside it's borders. Fifty-something different states all with differing laws, ages of consent and everything else. It's a fucking nutjob of a place that is nigh-on impossible to govern, but hey! It's not my nutjob, so what do I matter.

Georgey-Boy asked for a chance to get things right in Iraq, which is quite funny. I can't bothered to explain why. He also said:

"Many in this chamber understand that America must not fail in Iraq - because you understand that the consequences of failure would be grievous and far reaching."

I like this line. I like the little bit of flattery at the beginning; it's the Presidential equivilent of saying "A clever girl like you doesn't need me to explain..." I can imagine the rows of self-important pricks getting all swoony and batting their eyelids. He then says the bit about failure and being grievious and far-reaching. Magic.

30,000 civilians dead in 2006. 3,000 US servicemen dead. 120 UK servicemen dead. The London bombings. The Madrid bombings. All because we invaded Iraq. All because Bush and his buddies are bad men. All because Blair wanted to be a great man. All because people still voted for The Labour Party at the last election. All because we gave these politicians the benefit of the doubt.

Jesus we're stupid.

Iraq Bodycount website

Those nominations in full...

2007-01-23T16:42:00.000Z

Fucksy, fucksy, fucksy! Ignored again! Oh, Danny Dyer! How I feel your pain. I cannot believe that they've passed up your diabolical mockney schtick once more. When will they learn? Oh the humanity!

So, other than Danny who else will be drowning their Holly-sorrows in a bucket of high-class coke and low-class whores this evening? Well it's good news for Martin Scorsese who can once again turn up at the five hour do only to see Clint Eastwood whip the award out from under his nose for the second time. Also nominated in the Best Director category is Paul Greengrass for United 93. United 93 is not, however, nominated for Best Film. Queer.

Best actor is a mixed-race bag. Two black chaps, two white chaps and Peter O'Toole who has been dead for 15 months.

Best actress is the same list as last year.

It looks like the Jews are still to let Mel Gibson off the hook as Acapulco only got a make-up nomination. It won't win. That award will go to whoever can make Penelope Cruz not look like a duck.

Take a look at the list of nominations here and marvel at how the two screenplay categories are right at the bottom of the page below EVERYTHING!

Why don't they award the screenwriters a shit and be done with it?

I love this so much...

2007-01-19T15:58:00.000Z

This is a comment from the jump the shark website (find it yourself); taken from the thread on the (astoundingly good) American version of The Office which, inevitably, became a Anti-Britain/Anti-US turd toss. Enjoy:

"this show never jumped anything. And how dare british people compare their garbage humor to american humor. Not only are americans funnier but we are better looking...let's face it british humor is terrible, they still hang on benny hill for savior (PUKE) and hate to say it but british people are disturbing looking, example- Austin Powers. Here is an invention it is called personal hygiene. Dwight is maybe the funniest character on tv...he kills me every second i see him on tv, and steve carrell is hilarious. And pam if you read this cocoa loves you- tbone for life."

You're clever enough for me not to have to go into a deep line-by-line analysis of this but things to look out for include:

- The complete lack of capital letters.
- The confusion of fictional Englishman Austin Powers for a real Englishman.
- "tbone for life."

You can't say that!

2007-01-19T12:22:00.000Z

Isaiah Washington can't get a break.
"Isaiah who?" you say.
"Isaiah Washington," I repeat. "He plays one of the lead roles in the television programme 'Grey's Anatomy. It's not very good."
"What's gone on?" you utter, entirely ignorant of the man's existence or his supposed bad luck.
"I'll tell you," I say. "He was alleged to have referred to co-star TR Knight as a 'faggot', a claim he has steadfastly denied."
"And..."
"Well, in denying that he called Mr knight a 'faggot' he used the word 'faggot'. He has now been attacked by various groups such as the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation for using the word to deny using the word. He has since apologised."
"Mr Goodballoon, at the risk of you talking for any longer, I must ask 'What is your point?'" you cry.
"Well, I think it's a bit rum for a man to be criticised for using a word that he is denying having used in a wholly separate context. It a got me thinking about the current use of some words..."
"I'm sorry, I must be leaving." You say departing.
"Very well, I shall turn this conversation into a soliloquy:
I have noticed, of late, a most worrying trend,
Amongst them and us, foe and friend.
Our newscasters report, Too much party line,
Taking word for word, All of the time.
Escalations and surges, Insurgents and death,
One must look between the lines, whilst meeting the press."

God, that was tiring. Anyway, what I was trying to say was that the way language is being used on television and in the press at the moment has caused me concern. The term 'insurgent' is used constantly for those opposing the US-led forces in Iraq. Now, whilst the term is correct it carries with it an entirely different set of meanings than the word 'revolutionary' which a great many people, (particularly in the USA) revel in. We call them 'insurgents' 'cos they aren't us and if they aren't us then they must be the bad guy, right?

We also have the case where a few sections of the press refer to Bush's escalation in Iraq as a 'surge'. A 'surge' is not a military term; if you are raising troop numbers by 20,000 that is an escalation. Like in Vietnam.

One other strange connection of words I heard this morning was the phrase (repeated ad infinitum) 'multicultural, tolerant society'. Again, I see the point; we are a nation whose ambition is to reach a stage where, provided you break no laws, you are free to behave as you wish. The strange aspect of this was that it was being used to refer to people of an ethnic minority and, as such, the idea of 'tolerating' seemed strangely old fashioned and not a little offensive. It creates a picture of 'putting up with' rather than embracing, welcoming or, dare I say it, assuming other ideas and traditions.

I hope I have shown through my sloppy spelling, diabolical grammer and split-infinitives, is that our language is a precise, poetic, evolving creation that can dazzle and inspire. As an evolutionary body it is constantly adapting to it's everyday uses so when we put up with the inane ramblings and second-rate minds of those we find on Sky News, Breakfast or ITV as a whole, we allow a little piece of that language to die and a new less articulate piece to spring up. Don't put up with it. If you do, they win; their point will be made without their having to make it themselves and then you'll feel like a right bunch of retards.

Can I say that?

A letter from Peter Hain

2007-01-18T23:20:00.000Z

Hello,

Thanks for taking this moment to spend some time with me in order for me to fully... er... explain something I need to get off of my chest.

The more observant of you may remember that, a short while ago, I took part in a vote in Parliament to aid the Americans in a pre-emptive attack on Iraq. The number-crunchers out there will possibly also remember that I was a member of the cabinet that put the issue to Parliament in the first place. Whilst I stick by the decision to, quite irrationally, assist the Americans in their noble, murderous crusade it has now become clear to me that the American's brave actions, and therefore ours, were entirely misguided and have opened a Pandora's box of bloodshed and mayhem that will take all of our children's lifetimes to put right.

Many of you, unlike us in cabinet or the comedian Ben Elton, were quite aware that the intelligence we had invented was quite nonsensical. You saw through it as we should have done. You realised it was false and highly improbable. You marched in your hundreds of thousands against it and the war whilst we warned of Mr Hussain's potential lethality. We were very, very silly. Everybody who was in cabinet at the time (barring ex-Foreign Minister Robin Cook) believed every bloody word of it. God bless us, we were dopey, weren't we? Sorry about that.

With the impending Deputy Leadership contest in the Labour Party it has come time for me and other mercenary, turncoat ministers like me to try to appear more human, more intelligent, more loving than the others. I hope that by pointing at the Americans and shouting "Spaz!" I have put enough light between myself and the other candidates so that those of you eligible to vote for me will do so in your hundreds.

That's all. Thanks a lot for reading this and please remember it was the Americans that made us do it. We didn't want to. Honest.

Lots of love,

Peter x

He should be thankful they gave him two buckets

2007-01-18T14:25:00.000Z

From a letter in the LA Times from Jumah al-Dossari, a prisoner at Guantanamo Bay:

"I am writing from the darkness of the U.S. detention camp at Guantanamo in the hope that I can make our voices heard by the world. My hand quivers as I hold the pen.

In January 2002, I was picked up in Pakistan, blindfolded, shackled, drugged and loaded onto a plane flown to Cuba. When we got off the plane in Guantanamo, we did not know where we were. They took us to Camp X-Ray and locked us in cages with two buckets — one empty and one filled with water. We were to urinate in one and wash in the other.

At Guantanamo, soldiers have assaulted me, placed me in solitary confinement, threatened to kill me, threatened to kill my daughter and told me I will stay in Cuba for the rest of my life. They have deprived me of sleep, forced me to listen to extremely loud music and shined intense lights in my face. They have placed me in cold rooms for hours without food, drink or the ability to go to the bathroom or wash for prayers. They have wrapped me in the Israeli flag and told me there is a holy war between the Cross and the Star of David on one hand and the Crescent on the other. They have beaten me unconscious.

What I write here is not what my imagination fancies or my insanity dictates. These are verifiable facts witnessed by other detainees, representatives of the Red Cross, interrogators and translators.

During the first few years at Guantanamo, I was interrogated many times. My interrogators told me that they wanted me to admit that I am from Al Qaeda and that I was involved in the terrorist attacks on the United States. I told them that I have no connection to what they described. I am not a member of Al Qaeda. I did not encourage anyone to go fight for Al Qaeda. Al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden have done nothing but kill and denigrate a religion. I never fought, and I never carried a weapon. I like the United States, and I am not an enemy. I have lived in the United States, and I wanted to become a citizen.

I know that the soldiers who did bad things to me represent themselves, not the United States. And I have to say that not all American soldiers stationed in Cuba tortured us or mistreated us. There were soldiers who treated us very humanely. Some even cried when they witnessed our dire conditions. Once, in Camp Delta, a soldier apologized to me and offered me hot chocolate and cookies. When I thanked him, he said, "I do not need you to thank me." I include this because I do not want readers to think that I fault all Americans.

But, why, after five years, is there no conclusion to the situation at Guantanamo? For how long will fathers, mothers, wives, siblings and children cry for their imprisoned loved ones? For how long will my daughter have to ask about my return? The answers can only be found with the fair-minded people of America.

I would rather die than stay here forever, and I have tried to commit suicide many times. The purpose of Guantanamo is to destroy people, and I have been destroyed. I am hopeless because our voices are not heard from the depths of the detention center.

If I die, please remember that there was a human being named Jumah at Guantanamo whose beliefs, dignity and humanity were abused. Please remember that there are hundreds of detainees at Guantanamo suffering the same misfortune. They have not been charged with any crimes. They have not been accused of taking any action against the United States.

Show the world the letters I gave you. Let the world read them. Let the world know the agony of the detainees in Cuba."

Handy

2007-01-18T12:46:00.000Z

Toby Young vomited out 1,500 words for The Guardian on Tuesday about Victoria and David Beckham's move to Los Angeles. Amongst his various pieces of advice for the couple was this golden nugget:

"Never read the trade press in public

It's a well-known piece of Los Angeles lore that you can always spot the out-of-towners because they're the ones reading Variety and the Hollywood Reporter in public. Out-of-towners are under the impression that the trades carry all sorts of interesting information about showbusiness - stock quotes, reviews, box-office figures, etc - and that reading them in public will make them look like keen-eyed industry veterans.

The only reason people actually employed in the entertainment business read the trades is to find out how much their competitors are being paid. That's why people read them in private - because discovering this information is nearly always accompanied by a string of expletives."

In what way is that sackful of shite going to help anyone? Clearly it will have zero effect on Mr and Mrs Beckham as they go about their lives earning ludicrous amounts of money by playing football and shopping, the likelihood of my moving to LA and attempting to become a bigshot is getting slimmer by the minute as I drink and shit my way to mid-life mediocrity, and I should imagine that The Guardian only loses readers by putting the pug-nosed, shiny-pated, fat-cheeked, no-mark, heavily-hyphonated face of Toby "shitting" Young on it's byline.

I could be wrong though.

Award me an award for this tired award thing

2007-01-17T12:28:00.000Z

Well, here we are at the beginning of the "awards season" (named after Awas the Greek god of self-congratulation) and what better way to show our joy at this special time than to give out a few awards of our own. So without further ado I give you...

The Goodballoon Awards 2007 (although primarily they will be looking at events of 2006)

First up, the red carpet!
Delivered at 3.14 by two men from Allied carpets this pillarbox red delight is a real sight for sore eyes. She is 15 feet wide and a punishing 23 feet long making her easily the biggest rug this side of Terry Wogan (boom boom). Christ! I'm sorry.

First award tonight is for Best use of hypnotism to make people think your film is better than it is. The nominations are:

Little Miss Sunshine
Borat
Babel
Dreamgirlz

And the winner is... Borat. The panel congratulated the makers of the film on their ability to convince people that they were watching something new rather than an 80 minute edition of Sascha Baron Cohen's television programme. Well done.

Next up: Best keeping an eye on the horizon award.
This special award is given by the panel to the person or persons that they believe has given the greatest amount of thought on what the future may hold and how they may improve it. The nominations are:

Apple, inc - For their iPhone
Al Gore - For his environmental film 'An unfortunate series of events involving carbon emissions.'
Tony Blair - For the Blair Foundation

And the winner is... Tony Blair. Mr Blair has spent a great deal of time considering how to salvage something from the disaster that is his premiership of the United Kingdom. Having been jointly responsible (along with every other prick who voted for him in and his party in the last General Election) for 35,000 deaths last year Mr Blair has decided to start a charitible foundation like Bill Clinton's in order to make us like him again. Wealthy businessmen; expect a tap on the shoulder from Mikey Levy sometime in the next year.

Time for one more award before the end of part one and that is The worst band there has ever been. The nominations for this are...

The Red Hot Chilli Peppers.

see you after the break.

News!

2007-01-16T12:17:00.000Z

There is a place in Britain where nothing happens. There is a place in every town in England where no bad deed is reported. There is a place in your home where nothing more serious than Andy Murray's latest graceful exit from a tournament is discussed. Where is this place? Whence is this wonderous spot where the World outside ceases to exist and where only the cosiest, loveliest news will doodle-do? Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Breakfast on BBC1.

For the love of God have you ever seen anything quite so inane in your entire miserable, mugger-dodging life? Smug, overpaid and overfed (I'm looking at you Declan)presenter-clones all out-Buerking each other to try and be the most tearsoaked and lovelorn.

It is 12.23pm at the moment and their web-page features a winter fuel campaign for the elderly, something about Britain's disappearing high streets and one of fat Declan's things on ISAs. THAT IS NOT NEWS. THAT IS BLUE PETER FOR CARING SIXTH-FORMERS. And if I see one more trumped-up advert for a BBC programme disguised as a news item I will shit myself or someone very close to me.

The front-page of today's Guardian carried an interesting story about a rift between MI6 boss Sir John Scarlett (you remember him) and the Government, and in particular Blair and Goldsmith. The piece included pieces of information that, if proven to be true could mean that Goldsmith misrepresented himself to the House of Lords and would put Blair in yet another difficult position. Any mention on the BBC's morning news programme after 8.00am? My eye, there was. Instead we got their resident sports-prick to pretend to fall over a hurdle for ten minutes. Twat.

It makes me angry each and every morning and yet I continue to tune in. Why? Because it's the BBC. Let that sink in. The BBC. That used to mean more than an interview with an ex-cricketer who hasn't won a pro-celebrity ballroom dancing competition.

As you can tell I am not a fan. It makes me angry, but I'll tell you what makes me angrier: I'll bet Dermot Murnaghan still calls himself a journalist. He's not fit to lick Jon Snow's high heels (and that's another story you won't see tomorrow morning).

Gag!

2007-01-16T12:16:00.000Z

"Karma Police,
Arrest this man,
He talks in maths."

Which can be unbelievably distracting when you can't get an algebraic equation to rationalise. Bastard.

I'm with this guy...

2007-01-13T12:10:00.000Z