Dear Mr Lies an Corruption at the BBC 9.29
Stanislav observe publicly for years now that grunting hunchback transsexual Kirsty Wark make too much money from license payer, that he/she and husband/wife Alan Clements and business partner, revolting groupie and stick insect Muriel Gray, are all up arse of NewLabour. Not journalist, not commentator, just expensive media whores.
The late moron skinflint, Donald Stutters Dewar, first NewLabour King of Scotland, put TV’s ugly, greedy, mis-shapen fuckwit Wark on panel for design of new Scotch parliament. As if reading autocue was qualification in architecture. Dunno if she give the miserable old git a packet of shortbread or what (he never bought groceries, surviving on shrivelle-up canapés and sandwiches pocketed from official functions; he never got over Mrs Dewar getting the arse fucked off her by wallpaper king and Blair mentor “Lord” fucking Derry Fatso Irvine, greedy cunt and bastard fucking lawyer-bully, another good socialist, like Jack Himmler Straw, mincing about in black stockings and shiny shoes, like a fucking horror show queen) but anyway Dewar the horrible miser-cunt da-da-da-ed and made acned transsexual Krusty committee member of scandalous disaster project. Supposed to cost fifty million of English taxpayer money the new palace for the worthless jumped-up illiterate councillor thug extortionist MSPs -supervised, en passant, by ace clerk of works, floating abortionist and twisted little overdressed cocksucker, David Lord Steel, Mr McSpeaker to the thieving useless drunken rabble at Holyrood- wound up being, hold your breath, half a billion pounds. Krusty said loftily Oh, well, for fifty million of your pounds we could only have got a shed. Money too vulgar to mention. The shenanigans surrounding this staggering waste of money (the Welsh did it for about forty million) - the budget and progress meetings - were all filmed, surprise, surprise by Wark-Clements Moneygrubbing Media Ltd. for a documentary. When a public enquiry into this scandal was reluctantly initiated by Wark’s holiday companion, First Minister Jack National Embarrassment McConnell, it called, quite naturally, for this footage. Fuck off, said great democrat Wark. It’s mine an ye cannae have it the noo. Sensitive, confidential, commercially sensitive. Fuck off, too, and bollocks, said BBC DG Mark Thompson to those complaining of Wark running riot with taxpayer money. I earn a million pounds a year and you are worthless cunts complaining about a very great journalist and public servant, so fuck off again. Who do you think I am, Roger fucking Boulton? Go on, fuck off and don’t forget to pay your license fees. Scotch MPs contacted said Fuck off, too, worthless little people are only jealous of La Wark, great independent journalist and credit to Scotland. Fuck off, little people and prepare ye to fund our parties.
The Wark-McConnell-Holyrood scam was all part of the great LibLab coalition led by McConnell and Wark with the notional involvement of the nitwit LibDem Jim Wallace QC, MSP; yet despite -or because of- Wark and the BBCs very best efforts that particular cabal were thrown out last May and Scotland is now ruled by smirking dwarf Alec Salmond and his elderly mother who lives in the attic of his official residence and is only seen at election times.
If we sought a leitmotif for the utter shameless rottenness of NewLabour’s elite and its corrosive impact on everything else, the BBCs Wark serves well. Po-faced,discordant, sanctimonious, sticky-fingered, self-serving, ugly, charmless, hypocrite, she should be in jail. Thompson should be in jail and all the useless simpering worthless pampered wankers at the BBC thrown on the dole. That way, next time one of Wark's vagueacquaintances carelessly mislays a child in Portugal, they'll just have to fend for themselves. Like everybody else. Not have the entire BBC swing into diversionary action behind them.
The Dewar -Father of the Nation- statue in Edinburgh is vandalised so often, incidentally, that they’ve stopped repairing it. “Lord” and “Lady” Irvine (formerly Mrs Dewar) always have a cast-iron alibi. But you wouldn’t put anything past him, would you ?
Just recently a Scotch Labour peer, Lord Mike Watson, came out of jail and fled south to head-up, as we say, a Labour ThinkTank. Mikey had been at a taxpayer-funded piss-up for Holyrood parasites and, annoyed, maybe by someone not dropping their pants for him, like they're supposed to, set fire to the fucking hotel. Like a good Scotch Labour man he denied everything until CCTV tapes showed the drunken cunt senior legislator endangering the lives of scores of people. It is not known to Stanislav whether the great public servant, peer and arsonist, Watson, will retain his pensions, his seat in the Lords or if he, too, has enjoyed tranny holidays in Majorca with the greedy Warks. But if pressed Stanislav would say he will and he has.
Altogether now: Day-oh, day-ay-ay oh, daylight come and me wan' go home.
ps Maestro Dennis, himself a hunchback, has given good advice on the matter of the WarkTax, or the license fee, as it is more disngenuously known.
Stanislav wonder if any charming Blair children join-up in army and help be peacemaker in all places where Dad start war, plague, famine and disease - Apocalypse New Labour style; or if Leo, Euan, Nicky and wotsername will become international career mendicants, like Mummy.
Maybe get arse shot off in desert is privilege reserve to little people. Quite right, too.
(Look, my kids played, y'know, with Diana's kids, and I simply say to you, people-ov-Britain, not everyone is lucky enough to serve their prime minister in wherever-it-is. I mean, look at young Harry Hewitt, he really would rather get his arse shot off in the desert than be getting pissed with rich totty in Knightsbridge, drinking eighty-pound-a-throw cocktails and throwing-up. And they won't let him. And its a bit like that with my kids too. They're good kids, really. Not like those bastards on the sink estates who get drunk and fall over in the gutter. Or who take drugs and make porny movies. I blame the parents. But as I said, I can't be a parent to the whole world, or can
I?)
ps Mrs woman on a raft. You are still a woman on a raft after my own heart
Dear Oberon Waugh
Thought you was fucking dead from methane poison and talentless spawn, Alexander, Daisy and fuck knows how many other useless bastards, continually blow out flame of Waugh genius. Again and Again. Welcome back, anyway, in new world of press. And yes, I know who I are, thing is, do you know who I are ? No such thing, en passant, as bad language, only bad writing. Like put apostrophe in "Local rag's in China...". Like how you do.
Love from Stanislav.
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