spEak You're bRanes

It’s a sad day when something ends up polluting your own safe haven. I’m not talking about Alex’s post, of course. I’m talking about NickNick, way down in the comments.

But, hey, I’m romanticising the place – let’s face facts, this place has always been a magnet for the kind of appositional dickhead who likes to think he can show us exactly how we’re wrong for thinking they’re cunts by using the kind of impenetrable logic often seen in the Red Lion’s pool room at 11pm on a Friday evening. Let’s see what the latest appositional dickhead in the grand scheme of dickheads with stupid, fallacious arguments has to say.

If a disabled person wants my help to pay their living costs, they should ask me in person – I’m fed up with money being expropriated from me, and given to any moocher who convinces a low paid, bored, incompetent bureaucrat to finance them, from my money.
NickNick

You’re right, Nick. It absolutely should work exactly like that. Every single disabled person on a benefit in the UK should have to go around to every single taxpayer and personally ask them for their share of the money they get every week. It’ll be what, about £120 a week, right? It’s only fair, and it’s only reasonable.

Let’s see… that’s £120 divided by 30,000,000 taxpayers… carry the one…

Okay! There’ll be a queue of 2 million disabled benefit claimants around in the morning asking for 0.0004p each, and 29,999,999 other taxpayers facing similar queues and calling you a burst haemorrhoid. By the way, some of those disabled people claiming some benefits might also be working and are also taxpayers, so they’ll also be kicking and/or punching you in the bollocks as their individual disabilities allow. You know, just to save time.

I know this wasn’t exactly the solution you were looking for, Nick, but it does involve maths – and isn’t something that involves dividing by a really large number much better than just comparing you to a really large sexual organ?

Thanks to Kathryn for pointing out this illuminating – haha – discussion on light pollution.

All the light bulbs in my house have in total 300W. But my electric kettle is taking over 1000W. Maybe somebody will think about that? Microwave kettle? Rather then waste time on such a pointless discussion. We need a lights on the streets as well as in the cars. There is a massive waste of money, but not on the street lights. I think that everybody knows about who and what I am talking about?
LukeLoz

Let me guess: it’s you, and it’s everything that maintains your existence.

Please say I’m right!

Thanks to Claire.

Here’s Richard Dawkins telling everyone why he won’t debate with cunts. Wise words. Call them a cunt and then leave off. You could learn a great deal from this man.

Here’s someone who couldn’t, largely down to the burden of converting oxygen to energy and exhaling carbon dioxide.

So, do you remember that observed phenomenon when people extrapolate their own lives into the lives of the rich, famous, well-educated or hideously busy?

Of course Dawkins is reading this Toyo06.

What do you think he is, an Olympian God?

He wrote the little diatribe, he made his splash and now he wants to see the ripples.
Nainital

Yes. Richard Dawkins has been sat there, at his computer, continually refreshing the page, waiting for your comments. That’s what he does. He just writes articles for national newspapers, and then he goes on the internet to find the article and then he sits there and continuously refreshes the page waiting to see exactly which irrelevant shitmunching tossburger he’s pissed off this time.* And then he has another wank. He does exactly what you do – notwithstanding that you’re the irrelevant shitmunching tossburger in this whole paradigm, of course, and your involvement with any online community is very much the equivalent of a five year old child pissing in the corner of the room.

Has anyone else noticed that ‘Dawkins’ spelt backwards is ‘snik wad’, eh? I think that tells us a lot.
errrrr

Tells us either that you’re just a cunt, or you’re even shit at irony. But probably the cunt thing. It’s usually the cunt thing.

*Notwithstanding this statement, Dawkins has his say here. For God’s sake, please don’t get dragged in, Richard. It’s only a matter of time before you’re sat there at 5am in your underpants arguing on Yahoo News with a man from Texas whose considered opinion is that dinosaurs still exist and now they just all have jobs in government. At the very least, it shows that even the best of us can’t get involved in any part of the internet without exercising our right to reply. And that’s also my excuse.

Talkin’ ’bout washroom facilities.

I don’t find it acceptable to refer to the toilet as “washroom facilities” in a British newspaper.
wobinidan

My word, no. “Washroom facilities”? In a British newspaper? How dare you bring your crass Americanisms over here to our fair sceptred isle! This green and pleasant land, this land of hope and glory, of the Dunkirk spirit, Drake’s children, lion-hearted paragons of morality and truth, whenceforth did come the spirit – nay, freedom! – of the evacuation of one’s bowels and the damn near perfect British right to refer to the entire bathroom simply by referring to one of the features in said room! The toilet – the place where you go, curiously enough, not only to take a dump, but also the place you’ll go to wash your hands and have a quick Uncle Doug over the good old British page three stunnas in The Fucking Sun, For Fuck’s Sake. And allow any truly British person to be aghast, astounded and indignant should anyone try and not call it the toilet! For the way of the toilet – that is our British way!

I am aghast and astounded and highly indignant! Aghast, astounded, indignant and thoroughly ashamed that I managed to read that entire article and wasn’t nearly enough of an anally retentive, narrow-viewed, pedantically minded, jingoistic prick to notice that someone referred to the toilet as washroom facilities. Or, would you believe, not possessed of a brain so utterly dulled by a diet of Micro Chips, EastEnders and Simon Cowell brand orange pop that I decide to engage in an argument over the proper British terminology. Is is the toilet, or do we call it the lavatory? It’s so confusing! What’s the etiquette?

Clearly, I’m not British enough for our newspapers if I’m going to let such a gross slur on our national identity get by without remonstration, or even allow the remonstration to go without remonstration. As for the remonstration of the remonstration of the remonstration – well, I’m simply not man enough to go for the requisite eight weeks of continuous Typhoo enemas and intravenous Mr Kipling to get to that level of Britishness. And when you can’t imagine taking eight almond slices in the femoral artery, you know it’s time to move somewhere foreign and try to start again there.

There was a law voted in in Italy in 1988 initiated by the Communists guaranteeing free and unrestricted access to all the bogs in bars in Rome.

The result: all the bogs in bars in Rome suddenly had “Out Of Order” notices on them; the keys kept behind the bar for ‘valued customers.’

The moral of this story? Marxism cannot be introduced through social democracy.

( And the Italians are wily sods )
Gordonbnt

No, I think the moral of the story is that no matter how mundane and ordinary the discussion, there’s always going to be some cunt hanging around capable of reducing even the slowest and most banal of conversations to a geological pace with a demonstrative life story that makes all good and decent people want to kill their own children to save them growing up in the same world as that person. And the ancillary moral is that no matter where you go to escape there’ll always be someone ready to tell you why communism failed and why you’re stupid for not thinking of it

If anyone needs me, I’ll be outside standing in the rain, scrubbing myself vigorously with a toilet brush and singing Land of Hope and Glory until my skin bleeds steak and kidney pudding and I end up the right shade of pasty-white bovine spongiform British to actually be able to participate in the discussion. Cheerio.

On that Whitfield chap. Nestled away amongst people saying they didn’t know who he was, and people who’ve confused Spartacus with reality, was found this:

I shake my head in wonder and sadness at our readiness to sacrifice our beautiful and precious talent on the alter of political correctness that will not allow even the mention of alternative cancer treatments in the public venue, in spite of the overwhelming scientific evidence that some of them work very well.
think

Hollywood has a severe lack of proponents of weird health alternatives, yes. Why don’t you grind up your computer into a poultice, cram a quart of bee stingers up your pooper, cut all your fingers off, drink a bottle of rat piss and fuck off over there on a public awareness campaign? I’m not saying it’ll cure cancer, but it’ll certainly put you out of my gradually expanding misery. Which is probably better than curing cancer, in a lot of respects.*

*The ones that involve me.

Letter to West End Extra. From a cunt, naturally.

FINALLY, Westminster Council have got serious in their plans to end rough sleeping in the borough, and the horrible soup runs and daily begging which blight the areas off Victoria Street.

I am a local resident, and have been for 25 years. I have spoken to many rough sleepers, and virtually all of them have serious problems with alcohol, drug abuse and or mental health / personality disorder.

The longer they stay on the streets the worse their problems become, to the point where it is almost impossible for them to live productive or constructive lives.

The truth is that many of them in Victoria and in Westminster have chosen to sleep on the streets and subsidise their drug / alcohol abuse by getting free food from the soup kitchens and spending every penny of their own money – made from begging or from benefits – on their drugs and alcohol.

Soup kitchens and people who give them money are, in reality, keeping them on the streets, dependent and irresponsible, making sure they never face up their problems or responsibilities.

The city council is absolutely right to do everything it can to make rough sleeping, begging and soup kitchens unacceptable in the UK in 2011.

It’s great, too, that the homeless charities have finally realised that rough sleeping, soup kitchens, begging, actually is the worst response possible.

People must be forced in their own best interests to accept the help that is offered from charities and the state.

It should no longer be their choice to live like this and force residents to put up with the attendant disorder, violence, anti-social behaviour.

Well done Westminster!

GR
Address supplied, SW1

The other day actually, me and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim, we sat in the Korova Milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening. In the end, we decided to find some poor, lost soul without even a roof over his head, and help him find the motivation to get off the street. To face up to his responsibilities and lead a productive, constructive life. To resist the lure of free soup and cups of tea and move into a lovely two-bed semi in Dorset. And what did we get in return? A stream of verbal abuse. Fucking ingrate.

Oh, dear. Something awful has happened. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, what with being trapped in your white, middle class, bubble of liberal idealism, but some serious shit’s going down right now. It’s so serious, in fact, that this cunt has taken a break from dishing out street justice in copious amounts because it’s just become far too dangerous. Luckily for us, he went and got on the internet straight away, just to make this outrageously docile comment:

I would have liked to help stop the thuggary but I did not want to get arrested, sued, breach their human rights, get fined by “no win no fee” solicitors, get a criminal record, lose my job. It looks like the law/police/goverment is on the side of the thugs, blindfolding common sence. If the the law is incapable then take away all their money including their family who shelter them.
david jones, walsall uk

Oh, fucking hell, David! Just when we needed you! Just when Commissioner Gordon was on the blower to me, asking exactly where you were, and if your Batman suit had come back from the dry cleaners yet – now you tell us that this is the point where you can’t help us any more! After all, when law and order has broken down, when the State has failed and when anarchy prevails, you’re quite rightly scared of getting sued! On contingency! These things happen. I’ve seen The Incredibles. You’d end up in kangaroo court or something, and I’ve heard they’re even more sarcastic than Judge Judy.

Just when we need David Jones where he does most good – on the streets of Walsall in rubber undies, wandering around with what the guy in the shop told him was a 12″ black rubber serrated baton – he fails us. The alternative plan of taking all their money away could work, but without David to protect us they’ll just steal all our stuff anyway! And they can do that even when they’ve had their benefits cut!

DAVID, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN US??? WHO WILL SAVE US NOW!!?!

Two superheroes have been spotted in and around London over the past few days called ‘Blackman and Robbing’.
Call-me-Coconut, UK

Well, Clinical Depression Boy is about to turn up. Can he help us? Unlikely. He usually just induces catatonic foetal positions and extended absences from the internet.

TEAR GAS – RUBBER BULLETS – TASERS -STUN GUNS – CHEMICAL PARALYZING SPRAYS – HIGH AUDIO FREQUENCY BLASTERS – TRANQUILIZING ELEPHANT GUN DARTS – WATER CANNONS WITH PURIFYING ROTTING DYE – all need to be used ASAP and all we get from this home secretary is she tells us she is watching the CCTV…………………………….!!!!!!!
Roy, Essex

Oh, thank fuck for that. Our worries are over. It turns out that Roy will defend us all, weilding the massive hard-on he gets after reeling off the names of a whole bunch of fictional military technology what he did drew when it was raining. Just pray to God he doesn’t have a wank.

Anyway, never mind calling out for a hero. What we really need to know is how we can connect this to Muslims.

Here is another reason to outright BAN face coverings.
melita, ex pat

Thanks melita! And give my regards to Pat when you see him. Unless he still thinks you’re a cunt and avoids you like the plague, like everyone else.

Thanks to Jo. The original comment has disappeared and left only foul smelling footprints all over the internet, but forward-thinking Jo has helpfully pasted it over for us (hint, hint). The original article about Rebekah Brooks getting fired, is here, but like the majority of things in Comment is Free, it’s a depressingly obvious piece of self-indulgent tripe written by a confirmed moron. So get on over there and read it, because it’s right up there in terms of CiF quality.

@Savale

“Are you a Daily Mail columnist?

If so watch out – we’ll be onto your lot next!”

What a horrible bilesome comment.

What’s going on here? A strong woman made a couple of mistakes. I’m sure that Rebekah would admit this.

She shouldn’t have hacked Milly Dowlers phone, but I’m sure it was done for the right reasons. Besides which, remember this girl was already dead ok? Tragic but true.

It that the sole community who are coming out in support of Rebekah are the gay community. Just like when Princess Diana was victim of a wtich hunt. We now know that Diana was a beautiful person, some dayn we’ll know the same about Rebekah I’m sure.
JaneKnowels

Yep. She’s a saint, alright. A big, ginger saint. And strong, too – strong enough to rip the sack from a man’s oysters if he even thought about crossing her. I hope Rusbridger’s got his chastity belt at the ready.

She’s incredible, really – she started off shagging Grant from Eastenders and ended up playing polo with David Cameron,* presumably using George Osborne as the stick and Grant’s left clanker as the ball. And I’m sure that just like Princess Diana, everyone is very keen to see Rebekah closely involved with about 10,000,000 landmines, and would pay quite a lot of money to see her in the middle of a minefield in Afghanistan.**

At least now we know they’ve expanded the definitition of saintly behaviour. Before JaneKnowels started this degenerate harpy’s canonisation process, I was convinced it was either a lifetime’s selfless dedication to the poor, starving and downtrodden, or it was spending your life giving sex advice when the nearest you’d got to sex was wanking into the Archbishop of Liverpool’s mitre while he was prostrating himself somewhere very holy.

So in the list of acts that will get you giving God a Dirty Sanchez for all eternity, we can now include the very necessary and absolutely defensible act of illegally accessing a dead girl’s voicemail so you can get some inside information on her family, and then using that to get an interview that sells more copies of the News of the World. After all, to deny Rupert the opportunity to buy another small municipality to stuff into Wendi Deng’s knickers would be practically criminal. There’s right reasons for everything, and making sure the scrotal-headed one’s garbage empire has its shares knocked up a billionth of a penny is the rightest of right reasons.

And it’s okay. Milly Dowler was dead. And that means nobody got hurt at all, and Rebekah Brooks will ascend into heaven on a cloud of cinnamon scented farts for everything she’s done for humanity.***

Amen, JaneKnowels…

…you massive lump of cock-cheese.

* I don’t know if this is true, but I’m taking my lead from a fucking saint, alright?
** Or dying a painful, lingering death in an underpass.
*** And if you don’t like cinnamon, they’ll smell like justice for the victims of paedophiles, just for you.

Have Your Say is changing. Again. And the natives are not happy. Change? What? I DON’T UNDERSTAND. I LIKE THINGS WHEN THEY STAY THE SAME.

They’re adding comment to the bottom of news stories. Whereas at one time you could go and read the news on the BBC website without having some foetid ballache forcing their rancid, shitty, poorly thought out opinion at you, now you won’t be able to escape depressing, awful bollocks because it’ll be right at the bottom of every depressing, awful news story. Just like the Guardian. And don’t we all just strive to have comments of Guardian quality on our news stories?

It’s just too much for some people, and the revolution has started. And what do you know, it turns out the revolution will not be televised. It’ll be taking place on the internet, where no-one can find it.

Sorry, but this will be my last post. I’m going to start my own ‘unmoderated’ forum if anyone’s interested under my other pseudonym Lewis Jones.
Gruffydd ap Llywelyn

I’m up for it! Let’s go! This place is just too quiet lately, anyway. Shit, all we’ve got left in the comments is some hardcore regular visitors discussing bollocks with agoraphobic racists. We need more action. Where do I sign up?

Where please? Can we all come?
ruffled_feathers

That’s two! Remember, two’s company, three is the magic number…

What are the google keywords to find your blog?
I tried “lewis jones” “blog”, but irrelevant links showed up
Mustafa Yorumcu

Well, that’s three, but we’re shit at using the internet, or at least we’re shit at searching for what could be one of the most popular names in the English language, plus “blog”. I also tried using quotes around all my words, but for some reason a bunch of other people have the same pseudonym. More help!

Give me a chance to create the blog. And without too much advertising, join the two words together and add dot com LOL And yes, everyone can participate all I ask is that you mind your language
Gruffydd ap Llywelyn

You heard it here second, folks. No, Have Your Say is not the be-all and end-all of discussion on the internet. Apparently there’s other places you can go to air your racist, borderline insane, actually insane, phenomenally stupid and utterly depressing views. And everyone can join in. Lewisjones.comlol. It’s like Martin Luther King, only the dream is a reality.

To Alex Gubbay:

Your new ‘game plan’ appears to be all about you, the Editor, the BBC. It will be boring and predictable. Editor’s Pick – who cares???

HYS was interesting and more often than not entertaining, due to poster’s views. There was ‘some’ freedom there which made it so. I will miss these posters and hope to meet up with them again perhaps at Lewis Jones. Good luck to MORERAM and others.
beammeup

You’re right. All we can do now is get over to Lewis Jones’ new ‘unmoderated’ discussion area, where the hot topic of the day is…

…the new BBC Have Your Say format.

Fuck it, wasted my time again. Sorry about that. Here’s some barking mad, borderline racist with a thinly-veiled conspiracy theory about the extinction of white British culture, followed by the tantalising possibility of a vaguely witty comment.

Lets face it BBC, you are really not interested in what people have to say, unless of course it agrees with yourselves. I subscribe to many national newspaper comment sections which are far less restricted then HYS, and at least allow people to have a view. I really do hate political correctness, and lets face it, the BBC is extremely politically correct. Being the voice of the political Liberal Left will always rule the BBC, and anyone who doesn’t agree with your views will always be excluded. It is a sad show of democracy when our national broadcasting company is so undemocratic, but unfortunately the state of our big brother society which tells all UK citizens what they should believe, how they should be anti-Christian, pro Europe, anti British culture because we MUST fit in with our immigrant population and not fly any British flags, must call Christmas, Winter Festival, must not use Christian prayer for anyone, I mean heaven help us all if we believe in God, we are considered freaks. I feel extremely sad that the BBC has become what they are today….slaves to the popular policially correct society, instead of actually having a mind of their own. Thankfully, there are still organisations out there, including many national newspapers, who still have some guts and stand up for the people
KnightShift

Yeah, thank God all you have to represent you is every single newspaper except the Guardian. Otherwise you might end up going crazy.

Something about Facebook.

What a sad world we are becoming.

It was once thought that technology especially computers would be a slave to man, a tool to ease his burden and give him greater leisure time but it seems to me that man is becoming the slave to technoogy with people spending every spare minute glued to their computer.

If that’s living then its your choice and your welcome to it personally I would much prefer to go for walk in the country and stop and chat with people in the flesh.

Don’y get me wrong, social networking sites have their place in society and are brilliant for the less abled bodied person although experience tells me that many of the so called less abled bodied people would benefit from a walk in the country.
RonC

It was once thought that computers would be a slave to man, but since the advent of the internet they’ve actually just become a massive fucking irritant, like a horrible genetic cross between blackfly and crabs. Who would have thought how wrong we could have been, waiting for our computers to evolve into giant flying fucking cars or something and instead getting people like Ron crowded round the internet eagerly waiting to Have Their Say on a variety of stupid, banal and repetitive topics by posting stupid, banal and repetitive opinions like “Technology was supposed to be a slave to man but now we’re its slaves! It’s the Matrix all over again!” and “I don’t know who this person is!” and “Personally, I don’t watch that/listen to music/breathe through my nose, so I don’t have an opinion, but it’s all shit anyway,” and “Slow news day!” and “These cripples are all faking it. I have much experience with this because I once pitched my mother out of her wheelchair and set fire to the house, and the fire brigade still turned up. Bitch must have been swinging the lead. QED.”

Simple solution to these Facebook so-called-disableds, though. Stick pins in their legs. They’d soon walk. Right, Ron?

Right.

Merry Fucking Christmas.