Politics used to be a game played by the rich and powerful in society. The voting club in fact was so small that those running for office could know each of their voters personally by holding a slightly larger than normal tea party. The result was that when considering the ‘public response’ to a certain action, politicians just needed to wonder what the chaps down the Club would think of their decisions. And knowing that most of those chaps went to school with them and were from the same class, it was quite obvious that they’d be more or less happy without ever the top dog came up with. Hence those that got elected could do what they thought was best and more or less just get on with it.

Now however, the town of Grimsby has the right to vote and politicians have to weigh up every decision with that beast known as ‘public opinion’ that crosses lines of race, religion and class. Unfortunately if there is anything we know about the public at large it is that we are fairly stupid. For a third of the time we’re asleep, quite often we are drunk, very often we close doors on our hands and at least once a day we’ll use the phrase ‘I reckon’.

On top of this trifle of ineptitude there is also the sledgehammer that is the public’s lack of education as regards economics, political theory, notions of justice and seemingly the ability to think more than two steps into a puzzle. Read the rest of this entry »

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I heard on the news the other day that President Obama has announced to NASA that they’re no longer allowed to go to the moon again, or even make plans for a Mars landing. Very sorry, but that new rocket, crew module, lunar module, series of spacesuits and lunar rover are now completely surplus to requirements. And personally, I think this is very sad. Yes, astronomic exploration IS largely pointless, but who cares, really? It’s bloody brilliant.

However, the important thing to remember is that it’s not as sad as it could be, because people have been to the moon before. Yes they have. YES THEY HAVE. SHUT THE HELL UP, THEY HAVE, ALRIGHT??

Right, now we’ve got that sorted out… YES THEY FUCKING HAVE… we can move on.

I’m well aware that this is a fairly dodgy issue, but today you’re all going to finally agree with me that they have been.

Some of you may be familiar with the expression ‘Occam’s Razor’, which basically means that the simplest explanation for an event or situation is probably the correct explanation. An example of this is if you hear hoofbeats, you could assume that it’s the sound of horses, zebras, or the extinct quagga, back from the dead. But it’s probably horses, so why not just say horses? And it’s exactly the same with the moon landings. YES IT IS.

See, the thing is, you’re probably sitting there now thinking ‘pah, the most obvious explanation is that they DIDN’T go to the moon!’, but you’re oversimplifying, you twat. What you have to consider is that if they didn’t go to the moon, they must have gone to Mars or something. Think about it. They built several Saturn V rockets, at a cumulative cost over nine years of production and development of US$6.5 Billion, develop the lunar excursion module, train two teams of three men to use all this gear, pile it all up together, ship it to a launch pad, fill it with RP-1/LOX fuel (yes, I’ve been doing my research again), and launch it into space, whereupon the tiny podule of people would have to, according to the people who don’t believe in the moon landing, randomly scream around in space, not in earth orbit, or else the Russians would have known about it, and then fall back to earth. And if they went and orbited the moon, why wouldn’t they have landed on it? People frequently use the argument that NASA claim not to have the technology now to land on the moon. There are two problems with this. First, what that means is that they can’t land a self sustaining life support unit containing two men and scientific equipment on a tiny planetoid under their current operating guidelines, ie, it can’t just be piloted in manually by a badass pilot like Neil Armstrong any more, and second, it’s bollocks. NASA never said that. Someone said they had, and then some people believed them.

And as for the soundstage theory, what are you suggesting? That they built a mockup of the lunar surface inside a vacuum chamber? Cause they did that gravity test on the moon, and that can only work in a vacuum.

SORT IT OUT.

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Unless you’ve been living in a poorly furnished cave for the last 30 or so years, you’re probably aware that the news these days seems to serve one purpose and one purpose only. To make a really half arsed effort at scaring the arse off the entire world. There is, apparently, no good in the world. You’re going to die. You’re going to contract swine flu, bird flu and the FLESH EATING BACTERIA (dramatic music), come home to find an Iranian nuclear warhead in your front room, and then be killed in a terrorist attack, although the distinction between a middle eastern country attacking us and terrorism is probably not one that most people can comprehend.

This is but one of the many, MANY problems with the modern news media today.

Now, I’m very much aware that Mr. Charlton Brooker off of the telly has already covered this concept pretty well, but when have I ever let that stop me?

Up until roughly the mid-80s, “the news”, such as it was, was just people in various shades of grey/beige clothing listing slightly dull facts about equally grey politicians and the inevitable horrors of all-out nuclear war with the commies. But then suddenly, some bright spark decided that people needed to be more interested in the news. So they started to do a thing called a “vox pop”.

Now, I’ve got a small amount of journalistic training, and can tell you with some authority that 1; Vox Pop is short for ‘Vox Populi’, meaning ‘the voice of the people’, and that 2; they’re complete, total, unequivocal bollocks that serve literally no purpose other than to make the news look like it cares, and make people who are just innocently walking through one of the country’s various Arndale centres suddenly burst into a 5 minute soliloquy about how bloody awful everything is and how young people these days are disrespectful and how it was better during the war and how they actually know slightly less than FUCK ALL about what you’ve asked them about but that isn’t going to stop them from giving you some kind of ill-concieved piece to camera about a combination of what they heard on the radio in someone’s car as they drove past, and what they “reckon”.  I’ve done a few vox pops before, and they were all fucking fiascos. Especially the ones I had to do about the Market Rasen earthquake. Two theories I got were ‘It’s global warming’, and ‘I think it’s all these rockets they’re sending up.’

There is one good thing about vox pops though, and that is that they highlight the inherent fault in news and information transfer. They’re like a kind of exam. If a person can’t give you a reasonable explanation of a news story in a vox pop, then it proves that the news is not achieving its goal of informing the people. But people don’t fucking know that, do they. They just think that what Tony, a bricklayer from Heckmondwike thinks is fucking canon, and go about their day perpetuating this collection of vaguely thrown together ideas pertaining to the news and a right wing political agenda unprecedented in bricklayers the world over.

Then, there’s the problem of sensationalism. Now, I don’t mean the overblown worst case scenario style stories that I touched on at the beginning of the post. I’ve already mentioned the wonderful paragon of truth Charlie Brooker (and that wasn’t sarcasm), so I might as well link in to this clip explaining roughly what I mean. There’s a distinct need for news reports to be like small, cheap and unbelievably shit movies, which detracts from the importance of the actual story.

See, the thing is, the argument for this is that it’s what the public want. The problem is though, you can apply this argument to almost anything that exists. The public want shitty vox-pops and boringly edited, unoriginal VTs, yes. They also want those awful celebrity magazines, and gutter journalism such as is found in the Sun, Mail, Express, etc. They also want the X-Factor, and Dancing On Ice, and Strictly Come Dancing, and Big Brother. However, the public ALSO want flying cars, free public transport that stops outside your door, no taxes, MPs not to have expense allowances, climate change to stop or go back or whatever, and Osama Bin Laden to be found and brought to justice, but also for this to bring a complete end to all Islamic ultra-fundamentalist extremism and terrorism.

People say the public don’t know what they want, but that’s total bullshit. They know exactly what they want, they’re just never, EVER going to get it.

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You know what I hate? Well, yes. You do. Everything. Simon Cowell, for example, goes against everything I stand for, and the ENTIRE news media makes me want to attempt a removal of my cerebral cortex using a melon baller, an industrial sand blaster and those pointy things you use to hold sweetcorn with. HOWEVER, over the last couple of months, I’ve developed what some might call an unhealthy, zealous and frankly terrifying opposition to something I was already fairly intensely against. It begins with an ‘R’ and ends with an ‘eligion’.

That’s right. I really fucking hate religion. Fuck you. I don’t care what you think.

Now, I’ll admit, there are some good things to be said for the achievements of religion, but I don’t care about those, because any fucker could have done them, and in a lot of cases have. They just didn’t have access to a worldwide network of unsettlingly cheerful people, so nobody got the word out. But I digress.

You may be asking what’s brought this on. I’ve been sitting here for years, quietly fuming about people like Stephen Green, chief CUNT of the universe, and occasionally having a bit of a shout, but I’ve NEVER done anything like this before, and should probably explain myself!

Well I’ll explain, if you’ll let me get my words out! JESUS. And no. It’s just a word. I’ll say jesus as an expletive if I want, what’re you going to do about it?

On Sunday night, there was a programme on Channel 4. This programme was called “The Bible: A History”. Ok, this is kind of acceptable. There have been programmes on about other works of fiction, I suppose this is fairly normal, but then you realise that it’s presented by Anne “Twat” Widdecombe MP. This is an alleged woman (I’m not so sure, and I don’t think anyone’s ever actually confirmed it) who converted from C of E to Roman Catholicism in protest at the ordination of female priests. I dare say the C of E was gutted. This is a woman who lived with her mother until 2007, when her mother died, aged 95. Widdecombe was 59. This is, very obviously, a bad spokesperson for ANYTHING, so it’s clearly a fairly poor decision to allow her to speak on behalf of, in this case, the ten commandments. Basically, somebody has made the decision that in order to make religion seem presentable, they have to attach someone to the programme who is at least 94% annoying by volume.

Widdecombe then proceeds to interview several “impartial sources”, such is the procedure for making documentaries. Oh no, sorry, that’s wrong, isn’t it. I meant to say that she interviewed a bunch of religious leaders, achieving slightly less than absolutely fuck all. She then “interviewed” (by which I mean interrupted) two of my favourite people, Christopher Hitchens and Stephen Fry, both of whom walked out on her, after making her look very silly and forcing her to just repeat her frankly irrelevant points in a poor attempt to win. Think about that for a moment. It’s her programme, she has at least some editorial control, and she still looks shit.

The basic attempt of the programme was to make the point that the ten commandments are important and relevant today (which they aren’t) and also to teach a bit about their origins. This got me to thinking about the situation. Basically, you can disprove the importance of the ten commandments using only stories from the bible itself.

Before returning to Egypt to free the slaves, Moses was some kind of dead important chap, but had to flee Egypt when he killed a slave-driver who was being a bit heavy handed.

So what that tells us is that there was already precedent for killing people to be a crime/”sin”, otherwise why would he have fled? What it also teaches us is that according to the book of Exodus, a person can be as complacent as he wants, not help those less fortunate, and take advantage of their toils, as long as at the end of it you drown a fuckload of Egyptian soldiers who were, let’s face it, just trying to protect their investment, and lead a group of Jews around a desert for FORTY FUCKING YEARS.

There’s other proof too, but that’s all I can be bothered with. If you want more information, read the bible. It’s written by a bloke called Jesus Horatio Christ, and can be found in the ‘classic fiction’ section of your local bookshop.

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Those of you who have the ability to scroll down or the loyalty to visit this site more than once will have noticed that RedJolt doesn’t like the people who want a ‘dislike’ button on facebook. He is wrong.

I mean am I the only one who begins to shake with mouth frothing hatred when I see a ‘4 mre sleeps’ status update from some Paris Hilton wannabe who can’t wait to get back to see her innate boyfriend and presumably swap mind numbing pleasantries before dropping pants, bending over and thinking of En-ger-land?

Currently when I see such banality I can’t really respond with a ‘comment’ as otherwise I’d spend my life doing nothing else, and nor can I ‘like’ it with a healthy dose of sarcasm because apparently the internet cannot convey such elaborate sentiments. Hence I have to leave it there, existing without being mocked or challenged and that is something I cannot stand for. It’s like leaving a turd unflushed or a Morris Dancer alive – unacceptable. For some of you out there this might have been a bit strong and you are now slightly upset because you make such lovey comments now and again; well, first – never do that again and second, consider the other applications of the dislike button.

Nick ‘Dreaming of a White Christmas’ Griffin has a facebook page. He makes posts on it. He claims to be democratically supported by newts, pitbulls and inbreds across the nation. Now imagine his reaction when not only everybody in the UK but everybody in the right thinking world ‘disliked’ his status. Okay, so it might not stop him beating his drum of division but it would send an incredibly strong message of opposition to the view BNP and a message of support to those who they attack. And, more importantly, it would feel rather nice.

Obviously a dislike button isn’t a perfect system, the chances for bullying and abuse are massive but shiiiiiiiit Facebook I want one and I want one now.

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As any of you who have me added on Facebook will know, I’m a strong opponent of this reasonably new craze of being a fan of every-fucking-thing on the aforementioned social network.

You’ve all seen the like. “Joe Swanson became a fan of ‘when i talk to you i don’t know what it is but i can’t help but smile’”. “Kelly Winters became a fan of ‘i used to play crash bandicoot on the ps1!’. “Terry Willoughby became a fan of some banal bullshit everyone does/did and has absolutely no reason to be a fan of.”

Is this really what the world of social networking has been reduced to? What’s clearly happened here is that Facebook, bless its little digital socks, has brought people together who quite often lost touch for a damn good reason, and now that everyone’s exhausted the tenuous links of conversation, they’re desperately branching out into the world to find new friends who share their interests. Unfortunately though, they don’t have any interests. So you get this pile of wank happening. And before anyone claims that it’s none of my business what people do on Facebook, let us remember that there’s now, for some reason, a live feed which tells us EVERYTHING PEOPLE ARE DOING. So yes, it is my business, because I’m the one that has to hear about it.

The most recent of these piss-annoying group things however, is the swathe of groups demanding a ‘dislike’ button. What do people think will change in their lives if they’re granted a dislike button? Shockingly, you can’t ACTUALLY use it to, for example, vote. Although I’m sure the majority of such people would only use it to vote on whether Jedward or… hang on… well, the other one, has the stupidest fucking haircut ever to besmirch the nation’s television transmitters.

However, and as usual, this is a however so massive that if anyone corrects/disproves it, it will collapse and create a singularity powerful enough to destroy the entire universe, there is technically one positive to the hypothetical dislike button.

Nick Griffin has recently joined Facebook.

His profile, which can be viewed here, is, as that might suggest, viewable by all. Now, the new privacy settings on Facebook, which carry it ever further in its quest to be ever more like the paragon of social networky goodness, my good friend twitter, state that status updates will be viewable by everyone rather than just friends, unless the settings are specifically changed. Being a public figure, it seems likely that he would want to keep his updates pretty public also. So, either he can weather a battering of hundreds of sane people and members of unite alike, or he can withdraw his updates making them secret, rendering him with less public eye exposure.

Either way seems positive to me, to be honest.

I still hate all those “fan of” things though.

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Now, long time readers of my columns will probably be well aware of my… is disdain too weak a word? Maybe outright hatred would be better… of the BNP. I don’t just think people shouldn’t vote for them, I think that the entire party should be banned and made illegal along with any other political party that promotes specific segregation of certain groups of people from a country. And no, I don’t care that this would be against freedom of speech. There are, in point of fact, few things I care less about.

However, there’s already an almost inexhaustible supply of “bloggers” (I hate that expression) waxing lyrical about how terrible the BNP is and how people should vote for pointless pansy-assed parties like the greens and so on and so forth, so what I thought I’d do instead is to write something about one of their policies that I find particularly hilarious.

According to the Big Nipple Party’s website, which can be viewed here, they do actually have some policies other than the ejection of all people with skin darker than “Almost Oyster” on the Dulux colour chart. If you click on the “environment” section of the policies tab, you’ll see the top item, which is a little silly. Apparently the party will invoke “the removal of unsightly overhead power lines from beauty spots and their burial underground.” I have one or two problems with this.

Uncharacteristically, I’ve done a little research into this matter.

The total length of the national grid network, comprising the high, medium and low voltage grids, is about 16,497 miles, or 26,550 kilometres in Roman Catholic. Now obviously that entire distance isn’t ‘beauty spot’, but you have to agree, that’s a FUCKING long way. A fucking long way that would have to be dug up, have tunnels lowered into the resulting trenches by massive cranes which would have to get there first, be filled in with whatever was available, and then have the necessary number of cables needed to transmit the massive amount of electricity we’re talking about fed through them. Oh and then I suppose there’d be the issue of disconnecting the above ground cabling, removing it, and then demolishing and taking away the pylons. To me, this seems like a bit of a silly pipe dream.

I haven’t been able to find any figures as to how much the national grid cost to install back when it was completed in 1938, so, in order to make the Bunion Norbert Party look silly, I’m going to make up a number. The original national grid, when completed in 1938, cost just shy of £840 billion (that’s a British billion, just to keep them happy) to install, which is, in today’s money, about £12.2 trillion, which is almost 15 times this country’s entire national debt.

To be honest, I can’t see it working.

Not to worry though, cause the Bendy Nihilist Party has about as much chance of getting into government as I would. If I was dead. And decomposed. And didn’t stand in the election.

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Before I start this column, I’d like to point out that I’m very well aware that this site used to operate, albeit very poorly, a “man list” in which we celebrated the manly achievements of various people who we considered worthy.

I would now like to point out that in doing so, we were subscribing to what I consider to be the most pathetic and emasculating practice that modern life can currently throw at us.

Along with the unending stream of people saying “FTW” about things that are (occasionally) interesting or funny, I’d be very shocked if you haven’t come across one of these ‘man points’ style Facebook groups or websites. For fucking shame.

For those of you who have been spared these obscene aberrations to mankind, allow me to explain. Man points work on the basis that acts of so-called manly behaviour deserve recognition and reward. For example, the larger of the groups on Facebook state that some things which will get you points include climbing a mountain, which is worth 100 points, drinking Stella Artois, which is worth 10 points, “melting stuff”, which is worth 3 points, and, weirdly, completing a Rocky marathon, which I assume means watching all the Rocky films back to back, which gets you an astonishing 50 points.

Other groups offer points for things like using power tools and having a noisy job, and still others remove points for acts they consider not to be becoming of “real men”, which include wearing clothes that are too small, using painkillers, going to the doctor, crying, apologising, and washing your bedsheets more than once a year.

I’m going to launch a two-pronged attack at this, starting with the removal of points side of it.

Ok, so basically what we’re talking about here is being punished for being reasonable. Some twat has probably taken it upon himself to never take painkillers for fear that he’ll be thought less of. Not washing your bedsheets however, is an excellent idea if your main hobby apart from being a massive arsehole is convincing women who find massive arseholery attractive to come back to your place, and then having her dissolve as soon as she sits on your bed.

This leads me, in a neat little segue, to my next point.

How the fuck much of a GIRL do you have to be to think that manly acts deserve rewards? Let’s recontextualise this situation for a moment. Suppose that instead of manly acts, we want to reward something else, say… I don’t know… making your girlfriend a cup of tea. (I realise this is a bad reference as I’d say about 97% of the people who believe man points are a good idea are chronically single sofa masturbators, but whatever). Then suppose that instead of points, you’re getting a gold star on a chart. There’s no actual reward or anything, just gold stickers on a wallchart that will probably be thrown away within a couple of months. Do you know what’s happened there? That’s right. You’ve become her bitch. You’re making teas left right and centre just to prove that you can, and so you can have some stickers.

But that’s not quite what this is, because being manly is not like making tea or finally managing to satisfy a girl in bed. Nobody really wants you to be manly, because it’s generally quite annoying, and involves a lot of shouting, which means you can’t be taken anywhere nice.

You know what this whole manly thing is? It’s the last gasp of masculinity, being drawn out by the ventilator that is modern popular culture. Back in 1950, nobody would have thought that being in a fight, drinking lager (which is girl’s beer anyway) or climbing a mountain was worthy of recognition. They were manly, sure, but only in that they were things done by men. But over the last few years, the position of ‘real man’ has been called up to the stand and is taking a kicking from every which way. TV constantly reminds us how useless men are. All men are badly dressed, out of style, out of touch, shallow, insensitive bastards who are bad listeners. But because women in the media keep reminding us that this is a man’s world and that women need to be strong, regardless of the fact that this hasn’t been a man’s world since about 1983, makes it alright to constantly peddle this new and insidious form of sexism. It’s no coincidence that all the so-called ‘nice men’ in TV are inevitably the ones who are described as ugly in the show but are blatantly so attractive it’s a wonder their more pan-faced brothers haven’t cut their pretty faces with kitchen utensils.

The man points initiative was probably started by Germaine Greer or somebody. It’s a massive ‘that’s nice dear’ to men everywhere, and sadly many have been scooped up by the relentless maw of quasi-masculinity.

Oh and by the way, one of the things on the list of manly shit you can get points for is “going on the-biomatrix.net”. That’s a bodybuilding website. So let me say this: visit my site, and lose all your man points. ‘Cause I don’t fucking want your sort here.

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Ok, I’m well aware that certain aspects of this subject were reasonably well covered and mocked in the last series of “That Mitchell And Webb Look”, but I’d like to take a crack at it.

It’s becoming a more and more common thing to see things like this. Police cars, adverts, political messages, everything is being done with a grin, a thumbs up and the legend ‘in your community’. Excuse my mocking editorial laugh.

Ever since the government started being shit and afraid of commitment, they’ve been running adverts like this. Or is it the other way round? I forget.

As Opposed To "Government Services All Over The Fucking Place"

The problem with this whole thing is… well. I think it’s fairly obvious. The people who make the adverts are, for want of a better word, shit. They’re trying to make everybody look friendly, including those who aren’t. For example, let’s have a look at this marvellous juxtaposition. On the left is the Metropolitan Police’s car livery and mission statement, and on the right is an example of the Met’s jolly policemen working for a safer London.

The thing is, none of these adverts/claims even nearly define the person, people or thing they’re allegedly representing. I once saw a sign on the back of a bus that read “serving your neighbourhood”. Given that it’s a bus, I’d say that it’s probably going to go through quite a few neighbourhoods. Speaking of buses, there’s also one in my town with a statement on the side “connecting Hemsworth”. IT’S A FUCKING BUS FOR FUCKING HEMSWORTH! WHAT THE FUCK ELSE WOULD IT BE DOING? A LITTLE LIGHT FUCKING EMBROIDERY???

But I digress. Basically, stop doing this shit, it’s really fucking annoying.

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While doing the washing up the other night, I was listening to the closing minutes of Radio 4’s news discussion programme PM. The last five minutes or so were committed to an interview with a man named Ivor Ingall, who was not a very happy man at all.

As it turned out, Ivor Ingall had featured quite heavily in the news over the previous year, since it turned out that he was the slightly mental artisan responsible for Sir Peter Viggers MP’s now infamous “duck island”.

For those not familiar with the story, it became apparent during the media/politics clusterfuck of the year, the MP expenses scandal, that Sir Peter Viggers, conservative MP for Gosport, had claimed for the cost of a floating duck island on his parliamentary expenses, prompting those of a sandal wearing disposition to shout a lot and furrow their brows so much that it became unclear where their forehead ended and their ridiculous chullo hats began, and those of us of a more reasonable nature to laugh quite a lot at the fact that Viggers, 71, had felt that his ducks needed a sheltered island.

But then comes Mr. Ingall. He has been claiming on PM and also in a letter to the Telegraph, (excellent form for someone entangled in a conservative crisis), that because of the news media’s coverage of Viggers and his ostentatious pond decoration, people no longer want to buy his “garden follies”.

Oh dear.

RIGHT. If you’re going to complain about something like that, be prepared to reap the whirlwind. “Heytesbury Bird Pavilions”, the company that Ingall either owns or works for or something like that, I don’t really care which, fortunately isn’t QUITE as old fashioned as Ingall himself, and as such operates a fairly concise website, which can be found here, and offers a nicely easy to read price list. The duck island in question is called, according to the price list, the “Stockholm”, and is described thus: “This is based on an 18^th century building reconstructed at Skansen, the Stockholm museum of buildings. 56” high and 32 ½” square. £2,200.00 (+VAT)”. Also available are other ridiculous piles of chipboard that look about as well made as your average crazy golf obstacle priced at around about the £2,000 mark. I was also very cheered to see that the photo used to illustrate the Stockholm was exactly the same image as that used in the news coverage.

But I feel I’m digressing. Basically, the problem with this is that Ingall has only been granted this interview because he’s a fairly well spoken person who isn’t going to get carried away and start swearing on air. The interview, which can be heard here listens like an advert for Heytesbury. He moans that while all publicity is good publicity, that’s it’s there for the wrong reasons. He also misquotes Warhol and states that everyone has their “fifteen minutes of glory”. He then goes on to make possibly the most detestable statement I’ve heard in quite a long time. “This is an opportunity for the everyday man in the street to have a folly in his garden.”

OH YOU MASSIVE TWAT. Honestly I’ve not heard an interview in a long time with anyone who is so obviously just an enormous fucking wanker. People like this just shouldn’t be interviewed because they’re very clearly totally socially unaware. First off, most people can’t afford a bird-oriented folly in their garden if they cost at least £1900. Secondly, most people don’t NEED one of those things because they don’t have a bunch of effete ducks who are afraid of bad weather, and thirdly, regardless of what you might think, most people have got more taste than to go and stick one of these fucking abominations in their garden.

Inniskilling Castle, apparently..

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