What do the following have in common?
Boudicca
King Alfred the Great
Richard the Lionheart
Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson
Sir Isaac Newton
Enoch Powell M.P.
Stumped?
Me too. If I hadn't been on a fact finding mission to the BNP Gift Shop.
Great to know that even racist bigots like a decent feminist icon like Boudicca...
Can't wait for Question Time
!!!UPDATE!!!
They do a decent line in Golliwogs.
But, sorry chaps: most lines are sold out in XL and XXL
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
No Such Thing as Bad Publicity
Right. This is both sinister and hilarious.
The Guardian newspaper has been slapped with an injunction preventing it, for the first time anyone can remember, from reporting parliamentary proceedings, viz. a question properly placed upon the Order Paper to be answered by a minister later in the week.
Bearing in mind that the Order Paper is a document of public record and that both the question and the answer will be delivered upon the floor of the House of Commons (and anyone with half a mind to do so can go and listen to the exchange), it is Kafkaesque in the extreme that:
"The Guardian is prevented from identifying the MP who has asked the question, what the question is, which minister might answer it, or where the question is to be found.
What's this all about? Matters of grave national security? Deeply damaging personal slanders about some incredibly important pillar of the community?
No! According to speculation on the Guido Fawkes blog, and elsewhere, it's that old chestnut Big business dumping toxic shit on Africans.
From Wikileaks (page now itself taken down): "Following press reportage about dumping off the coast of Africa, Waterson & Hicks, a UK law firm acting for the large London based oil and commodity trader, Trafigura, ordered and received this confidential report (the so-called "Minton report") into toxic dumping practices by its client along and on the Ivory Coast.
The report reveals a number of toxic dumping incidents and appears to be the report behind this extraordinary secret gagging of the Guardian newspaper (article Oct 12). "
It seems that the parliamentary question in, er, question, may be this:
Paul Farrelly (Newcastle-under-Lyme) - To ask the Secretary of State for Justice, what assessment he has made of the effectiveness of legislation to protect (a) whistleblowers and (b) press freedom following the injunctions obtained in the High Court by (i) Barclays and Freshfields solicitors on 19 March 2009 on the publication of internal Barclays reports documenting alleged tax avoidance schemes and (ii) Trafigura and Carter-Ruck solicitors on 11 September 2009 on the publication of the Minton report on the alleged dumping of toxic waste in the Ivory Coast, commissioned by Trafigura.
Now while the Guardian has been slapped into line - for now - the Twitterverse and the blogosphere are going stir buggo. Alex Massie in The Spectator has had the stones to pick up the story and run with it.
Odd to think that freedom to report parliamentary carry-on was initially enshrined in the 1688 Bill of Rights and has been debated, and upheld, over the subsequent 300 years or so.
With all the hoo-ha, it's virtually guaranteed that what would otherwise have been a relatively obscure piece buried on page 27 is turning into a front-page three-ring circus...
UPDATE
Wonder whether they'll be able to injunct the European Parliament?
UPDATE 2
At about 1 pm Alan Rusbridger, The Guardian's editor, announced via Twitter (somewhat appropriately) that Carter Ruck & Co. had caved in. The paper is now free to report what's been all over the net all day. Chalk it up as a victory for freedom of speech won by the bloggers.
The Guardian newspaper has been slapped with an injunction preventing it, for the first time anyone can remember, from reporting parliamentary proceedings, viz. a question properly placed upon the Order Paper to be answered by a minister later in the week.
Bearing in mind that the Order Paper is a document of public record and that both the question and the answer will be delivered upon the floor of the House of Commons (and anyone with half a mind to do so can go and listen to the exchange), it is Kafkaesque in the extreme that:
"The Guardian is prevented from identifying the MP who has asked the question, what the question is, which minister might answer it, or where the question is to be found.
The Guardian is also forbidden from telling its readers why the paper is prevented – for the first time in memory – from reporting parliament. Legal obstacles, which cannot be identified, involve proceedings, which cannot be mentioned, on behalf of a client who must remain secret."
Indeed the only fact the Guardian can report is that the case involves everybody's favourite libel funsters Carter-Ruck & Partners.What's this all about? Matters of grave national security? Deeply damaging personal slanders about some incredibly important pillar of the community?
No! According to speculation on the Guido Fawkes blog, and elsewhere, it's that old chestnut Big business dumping toxic shit on Africans.
From Wikileaks (page now itself taken down): "Following press reportage about dumping off the coast of Africa, Waterson & Hicks, a UK law firm acting for the large London based oil and commodity trader, Trafigura, ordered and received this confidential report (the so-called "Minton report") into toxic dumping practices by its client along and on the Ivory Coast.
The report reveals a number of toxic dumping incidents and appears to be the report behind this extraordinary secret gagging of the Guardian newspaper (article Oct 12). "
It seems that the parliamentary question in, er, question, may be this:
Paul Farrelly (Newcastle-under-Lyme) - To ask the Secretary of State for Justice, what assessment he has made of the effectiveness of legislation to protect (a) whistleblowers and (b) press freedom following the injunctions obtained in the High Court by (i) Barclays and Freshfields solicitors on 19 March 2009 on the publication of internal Barclays reports documenting alleged tax avoidance schemes and (ii) Trafigura and Carter-Ruck solicitors on 11 September 2009 on the publication of the Minton report on the alleged dumping of toxic waste in the Ivory Coast, commissioned by Trafigura.
Now while the Guardian has been slapped into line - for now - the Twitterverse and the blogosphere are going stir buggo. Alex Massie in The Spectator has had the stones to pick up the story and run with it.
Odd to think that freedom to report parliamentary carry-on was initially enshrined in the 1688 Bill of Rights and has been debated, and upheld, over the subsequent 300 years or so.
With all the hoo-ha, it's virtually guaranteed that what would otherwise have been a relatively obscure piece buried on page 27 is turning into a front-page three-ring circus...
UPDATE
Wonder whether they'll be able to injunct the European Parliament?
UPDATE 2
At about 1 pm Alan Rusbridger, The Guardian's editor, announced via Twitter (somewhat appropriately) that Carter Ruck & Co. had caved in. The paper is now free to report what's been all over the net all day. Chalk it up as a victory for freedom of speech won by the bloggers.
Friday, 9 October 2009
Peace
Barack Obama has been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.
WTF?
I like the cut of the chap's jib and all, but last I looked we were still embroiled in Afghanistan, Iraq. The Israelis and Palestinians are still at it and it's all gonna kick off in Iran and Pakistan any day.
Jesus: I got both his books for Xmas and found them unreadable.
I'm gonna get myself elected as the first black PM. Then I can have a Nobel prize, too.
And I deserve a chuffing peace prize: the mayhem this morning over who got the remote control first. The problem was solved by sticking MotCO Minor in the other room where there is another TV! Bish, bosh, peace restored!
The UN are flying me out to Jerusalem on Monday.
WTF?
I like the cut of the chap's jib and all, but last I looked we were still embroiled in Afghanistan, Iraq. The Israelis and Palestinians are still at it and it's all gonna kick off in Iran and Pakistan any day.
Jesus: I got both his books for Xmas and found them unreadable.
I'm gonna get myself elected as the first black PM. Then I can have a Nobel prize, too.
And I deserve a chuffing peace prize: the mayhem this morning over who got the remote control first. The problem was solved by sticking MotCO Minor in the other room where there is another TV! Bish, bosh, peace restored!
The UN are flying me out to Jerusalem on Monday.
MotCO Towers, 8.30 am
It was at about this point a middle aged woman in a stupid shite mini 4x4 (Suzuki Jimny or some equal toss: if you're gonna drive a gas guzzler, drive a proper environmental crime. Like, I dunno, a BMW X6 or something. But I digress) started pipping her horn in an irritated fashion.
'What's the problem?' I ask
'I insist you move that lorry' she replies
'I'm afraid that's not possible: they're moving steel girders, each one weighs half a ton', I explain
'Well I don't care about that. It's blocking the street and I need to get through'
We go on in similar fashion for about 5 minutes. Her basic position was that there wasn't enough space to get through (there was, as matters turned out) and she couldn't proceed on her way (she could). I pointed out that there was in fact enough space (there was), or in the alternative, as MotCO street is in fact a crescent, she could turn around and go back the other way. But no! Forwards it had to be.
It ended thus:
'If you don't move that lorry I shall call the police. I must inform you that I'm a J.P.'
'I knew there was a reason I stopped appearing in magistrates' courts. The lorry stays.'
As it transpired, midst much gunning of the mighty 1.4l engine, she was able to proceed on her urgent business and park up down the street.
Turns out she was cluttering the place to walk her dog in the park out back.
Friday, 2 October 2009
Thursday, 1 October 2009
Literature
Biographies of great men and women are where it's at.
Today: Association football player Dwight Yorke, revealing all in his wittily titled 'Born to Score' (do you see what he did there?)
On his first date with a young maiden named Katie Price, who by all accounts has a certain notoriety for sporting a firm pair of large breasts and calling herself Jordan, Dwight had the novel idea of adding her chest of booty to his trophy cabinet of conquests. Sadly not: "My hopes for a more entertaining end to the evening were quickly dashed. Jordan made it clear nothing like that was on the agenda - she even paid for her own McDonald's."
Today: Association football player Dwight Yorke, revealing all in his wittily titled 'Born to Score' (do you see what he did there?)
On his first date with a young maiden named Katie Price, who by all accounts has a certain notoriety for sporting a firm pair of large breasts and calling herself Jordan, Dwight had the novel idea of adding her chest of booty to his trophy cabinet of conquests. Sadly not: "My hopes for a more entertaining end to the evening were quickly dashed. Jordan made it clear nothing like that was on the agenda - she even paid for her own McDonald's."
Good to see that young people in the public eye still know how to conduct themselves with dignified restraint.
Zen
Sitting at Court, where the hoons have block-listed about 96 cases for pre-trial review at the same time.
The only rational explanation is that it's a deliberate attempt to fuck with our minds, give us Stockholm Syndrome, to the point where all futile resistance crumbles and one is prepared to accept any settlement offer, no matter how ludicrous, simply to get out of here. All around me are besuited characters gently segueing from boredom into a Zen-like state of inactivity. Strings of drool connecting their lower lips to their knees.
But not me! Armed with naught but a 3G phone and a keen dose of exhibitionism I can rise above this common herd by updating my blog.
UPDATE
They upped their offer! 2.5k for a severed limb possibly on the low side, but I'm out of here, suckers.
The only rational explanation is that it's a deliberate attempt to fuck with our minds, give us Stockholm Syndrome, to the point where all futile resistance crumbles and one is prepared to accept any settlement offer, no matter how ludicrous, simply to get out of here. All around me are besuited characters gently segueing from boredom into a Zen-like state of inactivity. Strings of drool connecting their lower lips to their knees.
But not me! Armed with naught but a 3G phone and a keen dose of exhibitionism I can rise above this common herd by updating my blog.
UPDATE
They upped their offer! 2.5k for a severed limb possibly on the low side, but I'm out of here, suckers.
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