stanislav, a young Polish plumber said...Were there even a handful of good people in parliament we would not be where we are.

stanislav, a young Polish plumber said...

The limbless infants in Iraq will be pleased to learn that some in the UK legislature are jolly good chaps,decent constituency types, just a bit hamstrung really, rolled over by the wheels of others' ambitions. Hapless, carpet-bombed Afghani villagers, collateralised into offal by friendly fire from Uncle Sam would, did they but live, take comfort from the knowledge that Bob Cunt-Marshall-Andrews QC, MP, occasionally and heroically led a theatrical rebellion on the back benches, before returning, fretful and war=weary, to his claret and to the onerous task of collecting all that money from the taxpayer; the whole party confident that NewLabour, thanks to Bob and his histrionic chums' threatened rebellion, was still the party of justice and peace and equality - not, of course, that it ever was - and this stagey flickering of conscience among toilet-creeping layabouts who rejoice in the soubriquet of senior backbenchers periodically restores the faith of guilty former socialists drinking mineral water at their dinner parties. Paxman and Marr and the whole ghasrly regiment will stoke feverish speculation that the government might be beaten by it's own. Everybody knows it never happens but the myth is perpetrated that a meaningful debate happened, in a mature adult democracy, a mature adult democracy which puts Fuckwit Flint in charge of important matters, that kind of adult democracy. And Bob I am a mouthy Cunt and pretend lawyer Andrews, QC, MP, is assured his knighthood, one which he will take reluctantly as a testament to his firebrand concern for the poor. And his independence. A bit like Nancy Hatterjee going into the Lords, but only, snigger, to abolish it. There is no business like show business


When begging to be elected these cunts extol their own virtues and qualities, among them their ability to scrutinise, invigilate, predict, forecast, police, regulate, nitpick and cheesepare at an Olympic level and on any range of issues that you care to mention. Strange, isn't it, that five and a half hundred of the fuckers allowed their powers to falter when it came to kicking-off the relatively important business of World War Three. Oh, fuck me, says Superbrain Michael Howard, I was misled, look you; misled isn't it ? I know I am a frightfully clever lawyer but when some drunken fucking psychopath like Mr Campbell puts before me, and before this house, Mr Sphinctre, a dossier, a dossier mind, made up of bollocka and old shit, cut and paste, cut and paste, mind, off the Internet, well of course I have to believe it.As do all honourable members, nobody here tells lies, you see. No, seriously, its not allowed, look you, to mislead the house. And as for Mr Scarlett of MI5, Mr Deputy Spanker, well it's obvious, isn't it, look you, to me and other honourable and, may I say, right honourable members, such as myself, that the man's a horrible bastard, an obnoxious thieving cunt who would set the world ablaze to further his own career, Mr Deputy Spunker. But Mr Deputy Speaker, hindsight, look you, is all very well. But nobody and by nobody I mean nobody in the world might reasonably be expected to suspect Mr Campbell and his owner, Mr Blair (pause for applause) to be a pair of thieving lying monsters up to their poxy arses in blood and blackmail and sleaze and filth and theft and so on, Mr Speaker, I won't bore the house. And so it is clear that nobody at all in this house can be blamed for anything Mr Deputy Speaker. We may well have got it all wrong, Madam Deputy Speaker, World War Three, but we are entirely honourable and blameless and charges that we are incapable of boiling a fucking kettle, Madam Deputy Speaker, charges that we could not, look you, not run a bleeding whelk stall, that we are not, Mr Speaker, worth a fucking bullet are utterly without foundation and I insist, insist it is, look you, that the population stop making them. And in view of that the House will agree that we should all have more money, isn't it. Yes, I will give way to the honourable lady the home secretary. And baker.

I'd just like to say Madam Deputy Spanker that just because I am home secretary and in charge of crime prevention, surveillance, torture, illegal detention and the introduction of ID Cards - produced, the house will be pleased to know, by the noble Lord Kinnock's family firm, ShitInYourFaceUlike Ltd. - it doesn't mean that I have eyes in the back of my fucking head. How, Mr Speaker, am I expected to know that half of these cunts here, all around me, are so obviously on the take and on the fiddle, so obviously banging their researchers and secretaries, so obviously thieving, lying, workshy, cocksuckers fiddling their expenses and allowances that a child could spot it. I simply ask you, how'm I supposed to know? Just because some of myright honourable colleagues spend much of their time helping Mr Yates with his enquiries gives me no, Madam Spanker, no special powers of detection. I am only the home fucking secretary, what do I know about crime right under my fucking nose. And anyway I would draw the attention of the house to its own maxim - The Lady Sir Nichael Kneepads White protocol - that nobody here knows what's going on until after its been exposed and then quickly covered-up, ventilated, neutralised and buried by Dimbleby Corp., and then we can draw a line in the sand, learn valuable lessons, and move forward. to our pensions, all the while increasing the surveillance on the increasingly criminal electorate. And sending them in to prisons from which, unless they are serious foreign criminals, or child molesters, George, it is proving increasingly difficult, thanks to the Injustice Minister, Mr Jack Himmler, to gain lawful release. And thus, Mr Deputy Spunker, I commend the status quo to this house.

Cries of Hear, hear !! Show us yer tits! and Give us a SnotBun!! echoed to the roof of the chamber.

Robbed-from pensioners, discharged ill from one of the Hewitt-Johnson flagship shithole hospitals - presided over by ludicrously incompetent jumped-up double-entry book-keeper criminals - shivering in the over-taxed home that they will anyway have to sell to pay for their care and enter some extermination home staffed by central European granny-bashing fiends will also be over the fucking moon to learn that there are some good persons in Westminster, concerned about the welfare of the elderly, just not as concerned as they are about their own.

Ordinarily broadly convergent with the Irish arsonists' journal the Polish Plumbers' Federation on this occasion diverges hust a little; the Irish, like the Poles, were ever over sentimental and it is perhaps comforting to think that still, in parliament, toil good men and true. But it is wrong. If there were any good men or women they would by now, for an angry host of reasons, resigned from teir parties, or stormed from the House to the nearest TV studio and denounced any number of crimes against the people - our people, other people; instead they treat us to the dreary, lumbering feeble backbench "rebellion" and slink back to the trough.

Phrases become cliches not because they are false but because they are true. Everyone here will know ...that for Evil to triumph it is only necessary for good men to do nothing... yet year after year it becomes ever more abundantly, inarguably clear that in parliament nothing is exactly what they do.


Were there even a handful of good people in parliament we would not be where we are.

Jail to the chiefs.


"It is time for the overthrow of parliament...they are all thieves...all of them" ( a citizen, on today's BBC Radio Four Any Answers. Don't know how he slipped through the moderators)

2:52 PM, February 02, 2008