stanislav said... Now, party suicide, that would be a Labour victory worth talking about.

stanislav said...

The Jock Tribesmen's Party can win this one but if he would get his idle, ginger, beetle-browed, cross-dressers down to the polling station in enough numbers, Sheikh Ali bin Salmond must think laterally.

Bearded Lady, Sir Sean Connery, is a busted jock flush, flying-in from Switzerland for a photo-op and some grunting now and again; shrieking old vamp, Annie Lennox, also from the Jock enclave in Switzerland, peddling her axpatriot nationalism may be effective among the odd closet heterosexual in the ranks but Jock wants real men, real men, that's what Jock craves.

It may betoken a shared interest in boys-in-care or in strapping Tommy Arkins - many of him the Jock version- in a chair and torturing him to death but Ali has been cultivating Mr Marty Kneecaps McGuinness of late; Marty, a fellow Patriot Gamester who would've died, y'know, so he would, in Long Kesh, if only he could have, but instead must struggle on with a six-figure salary and pension from English taxpayers, whom he has already cost trillions of hospital-building pounds.

Marty and Ali and some belligerent, sheep-shagging, Bread of Heaven imbecile troglodyte from Wales officially make common cause in order to cause difficulty for the Westminster Parliament - ie the rest of us, all fifty-five million of us.

There's food for thought, eh? The terrorist torturer; the wee, fat, smirking, cross-dresser and the coal-stained sheepshagger, all lavishly paid and pensioned by the taxpayers of England while openly conspiring against them.

Ali bin Salmond, anyway, if he toured Glasgow in an open-topped tartan 'bus with his chum, Marty Kneecaps, smiling his wee Semtex smile, the seat would be his. It would make little difference to the nice Polish and Chinese people who run Glasgow, but the indingenous Zombie neds, shuffling about in vomit-encrusted shellsuits, might be inspired to go down the polling booth, the noo, it doesn't matter that they cannae do that writing shite.

Those clever Alexander people, together with Nutter Brown, have fucked Labour more severely in Scotland than in England, Brown's one appearance at the Dunfermline by election handing it to the Toilets party.

So unnaturally, blood-curdlingly unpleasant, so viscerally repulsive, so nail-scrapingly on blackboard unnerving is this overstretched and overpromoted, cowardly and unpricipled unfortunate freak of nature that he wouldn't win an election in his own front room.

Even the people of Fife will never re-elect him, not even at gunpoint: Awa' and get tae fuck wi' ye, ye mad, snot-eating lunatic, yer no' representing me, awa' noo or I'll call the polis. An' dinnae come back nae more. D'ye hear, g'an, awa' wi ye, ye fucking eejit.

The Iraq occupation and all - via Jack Torture, Jackie Snotbuns, Blind Boy Blunkett, Lord Reid of Kabul and those sourgaced Ulster presbyterian cocksuckers - that has flowed from it, remain huge in Scotland's admirable, high-minded, dissident consciousness. Dawn raids, child internment, rendition flights, waterboarding, illegal munitions transport and Trident - all part of Brown's human rights agenda, rankle here ia way that they don't South. Labour is fucked in Scotland. Absolutely fucked.

And while, for many in Scotland, voting for the Jock Tribesmen is an act as uncivilised and abominable as keeping dogshit in the 'fridge, times are hard and Labour is rightly sees as public enemy number one.

The JockBeeb has its own rentagob psephologist, light entertainer and pretend professor, John Curtice, and these things are probably best left to people like him, withour proper jobs to go to. We might, however, consider. for ourselves that even those generationally affixed to the Labour Party are sickened to their stomachs by the Mandelson-Brown-Blair coup and the serried, suited ranks of thieving, degenerate ponces it has engendered on all sides of the house of commons.

Maybe Glasgow's Labout voters will, in fact, accomplish the overdue, necessary act from which Gordon - sick, mad, bad, spiteful, bilious, paranoid, fucked-up, rotten and filthy, floundering and hopeless - shrinks.


Maybe, even amid the pigmy tumult of Salmond's ignorant and fascistic Jock horde, it will be Brown's own countrymen, of his own party, who will persuade him, by their lack of support, that it really is time to Come out Gordon. Come out and fuck off. Now, party suicide, that would be a Labour victory worth talking about.

July 1, 2008 1:53 PM