This will be the last blog - tomorrow I'm off to London to break a few heads and show the SPG (or whatever the Met call their thugs now) that we're harder than them.
Today is exactly 6 months since Laura died - I've done my best to stay peaceful, but the politicians have kept me permanently angry, so whoever tries to stop me storming Parliament tomorrow will be sorry.
Fuck them all, and I'm off to nick for kicking the shite out of a few uniformed thugs.
Bri.
Friday 22 May 2009
Tuesday 5 May 2009
Thieves, scrotes and Italian referees
I had a somewhat disturbing experience on Monday - popping into the local Co-Op for a packet of fags, I encountered a little scrote trying to steal a sandwich, with only one of the till girls trying to stop him.
Me being me, I interposed myself between said scum and the young lady, and made it plain that it would be best for him if he returned the sandwich.
Imagine my surprise (not!) when he threatened me, in best Gangsta, with personal violence!
Now I, as a man that went to school in Moss Side, am not a man to be impressed by arseholes talking big - after relieving the little git of the sandwich I asked him to repeat his threats in English, at which point he headed back towards me, his right hand reaching for his pocket. It seemed obvious to me that the silly little pillock thought I'd be scared by a knife, but what I felt was more disrespectful was that he was still jabbering at me in Gangsta, and that he thought that I, an honest and honourable man, would let a shitty little shoplifter who can't even be bothered to speak English threaten me.
Unfortunately (for me), his friends called him back, and the little twat went outside.
Having been in a situation where it was likely that a blade would be pulled on me, I was in full attack mode, with enough adrenaline for a whole football crowd flowing through my veins - I had to punch the wall when I got home to get the steam out of my system. I'd have much preferred it if he'd pulled the blade - I could have sated my bloodlust and got a thieving little bastard off the streets at one go.
And referees?
I've just watched the Man U vs Arsenal game, and had a couple of quid on a 3-0 victory to Man U. To see the ridiculous penalty decision that gave Arsenal a totally undeserved goal, and incidentally cost me 68 quid, made me think that there isn't much difference between Italian refs and shoplifters - they all steal from us eventually. What a bastard that ref is.
Still, Aldershot's a small town, and I'll eventually see the shoplifter again - he'd better be a fast runner. Italian refs, on the other hand, can steal my putative gambling winnings with impunity, since I'll never be able to recognise them.
Me being me, I interposed myself between said scum and the young lady, and made it plain that it would be best for him if he returned the sandwich.
Imagine my surprise (not!) when he threatened me, in best Gangsta, with personal violence!
Now I, as a man that went to school in Moss Side, am not a man to be impressed by arseholes talking big - after relieving the little git of the sandwich I asked him to repeat his threats in English, at which point he headed back towards me, his right hand reaching for his pocket. It seemed obvious to me that the silly little pillock thought I'd be scared by a knife, but what I felt was more disrespectful was that he was still jabbering at me in Gangsta, and that he thought that I, an honest and honourable man, would let a shitty little shoplifter who can't even be bothered to speak English threaten me.
Unfortunately (for me), his friends called him back, and the little twat went outside.
Having been in a situation where it was likely that a blade would be pulled on me, I was in full attack mode, with enough adrenaline for a whole football crowd flowing through my veins - I had to punch the wall when I got home to get the steam out of my system. I'd have much preferred it if he'd pulled the blade - I could have sated my bloodlust and got a thieving little bastard off the streets at one go.
And referees?
I've just watched the Man U vs Arsenal game, and had a couple of quid on a 3-0 victory to Man U. To see the ridiculous penalty decision that gave Arsenal a totally undeserved goal, and incidentally cost me 68 quid, made me think that there isn't much difference between Italian refs and shoplifters - they all steal from us eventually. What a bastard that ref is.
Still, Aldershot's a small town, and I'll eventually see the shoplifter again - he'd better be a fast runner. Italian refs, on the other hand, can steal my putative gambling winnings with impunity, since I'll never be able to recognise them.
Thursday 23 April 2009
St Georges Day
Well, here we go again - it's the day on which Englishmen should celebrate their Englishness, Shakespeare's birthday and all that.
I'm Welsh, so have already had my saint's day (yes, I wore a daffodil all day and didn't mind looking a bit silly), but our little circle of middle-aged men of varied ethnicity and shade will all be raising a glass to both St George and the Bard today. It's Everton's birthday too, so there's likely to be some Jamaican chaos going on later.
I find it a shame that St George's day isn't more widely celebrated, and that the political classes seem to be actively opposed to the display of the English flag, as though there is an ingrained fear that celebrating your Englishness is wrong and may lead to BNP tendencies or worse. Any BNP supporter encountering our little celebration today would be best advised to keep very, very quiet - we're all British, but all different sorts of British, and we're determined to celebrate our Britishness today.
So get out in the spring sunshine, gather as many friends as you can, and toast England, St George and Shakespeare until you can toast no more.
I'm Welsh, so have already had my saint's day (yes, I wore a daffodil all day and didn't mind looking a bit silly), but our little circle of middle-aged men of varied ethnicity and shade will all be raising a glass to both St George and the Bard today. It's Everton's birthday too, so there's likely to be some Jamaican chaos going on later.
I find it a shame that St George's day isn't more widely celebrated, and that the political classes seem to be actively opposed to the display of the English flag, as though there is an ingrained fear that celebrating your Englishness is wrong and may lead to BNP tendencies or worse. Any BNP supporter encountering our little celebration today would be best advised to keep very, very quiet - we're all British, but all different sorts of British, and we're determined to celebrate our Britishness today.
So get out in the spring sunshine, gather as many friends as you can, and toast England, St George and Shakespeare until you can toast no more.
Tuesday 21 April 2009
May thine own acts follow you
This is another personal blog - you may read or ignore as you please.
About 3 years ago, I came home from work to find two young girls sat on our couch.
Laura had (as was her way) picked them up off the street and offered them a bed for the night.
That night turned into six months, during which we gave S & N (no names- they are their own people) a stable place to build on, enough confidence to kick their habits and to move on with their lives.
S, we knew, made it - we're still in touch and she's now in a good relationship with a man that loves her and cares for her.
We lost touch with N - we heard a lot of stuff about her going on the crack and moving away, and were worried about her.
Today was a red letter day for me - I bumped into N in town, and she's clean, happy and in a good relationship with one lovely daughter and another on the way.
Just goes to prove - never pass by on the other side, because sometimes your little bit of help works wonders.
Sentimental again, I know - but sometimes life's like that ;o)
About 3 years ago, I came home from work to find two young girls sat on our couch.
Laura had (as was her way) picked them up off the street and offered them a bed for the night.
That night turned into six months, during which we gave S & N (no names- they are their own people) a stable place to build on, enough confidence to kick their habits and to move on with their lives.
S, we knew, made it - we're still in touch and she's now in a good relationship with a man that loves her and cares for her.
We lost touch with N - we heard a lot of stuff about her going on the crack and moving away, and were worried about her.
Today was a red letter day for me - I bumped into N in town, and she's clean, happy and in a good relationship with one lovely daughter and another on the way.
Just goes to prove - never pass by on the other side, because sometimes your little bit of help works wonders.
Sentimental again, I know - but sometimes life's like that ;o)
Friday 17 April 2009
Jacqui Smith's a Cunt
For OH:
Bastard Holborn has this great campaign
Which will upset poor Jacqui again -
To get on the front,
Call Jacqui a cunt -
He'll add you to his roll of disdain.
Bastard Holborn has this great campaign
Which will upset poor Jacqui again -
To get on the front,
Call Jacqui a cunt -
He'll add you to his roll of disdain.
Tuesday 14 April 2009
The Braveheart Programme
I live in Aldershot - it's an army town, slowly fading under the cosh of New Labour that has decimated and overstretched our armed forces.
One of my favourite watering holes is the Trafalgar - it's the safest place to drink in town, and a great place to chill out and watch rugby.
Today's Indy has an excellent article about the Traf and its bond to the Paras.
The main thrust of the article, though, is the lack of care given by the New Labour swine to our troops - interviews with several of the ex-Paras that drink there highlight the problems that PTSD causes to too many of our ex-servicemen and women.
I've never served (tried to join the Marines but my eyesight's too poor), but have spent many hours in the company of these fine gentlemen, and can attest to their suffering and their sense of abandonment by the country that they fought for.
There's an initiative being run from the pub to try to help the veterans - the Braveheart Programme. They should have charitable status soon, so when they do I suggest we all contribute to this cause rather than the leftist dominated nonsense that is Oxfam or any of the other charities that help the undeserving.
If you read this, please spread the word - as the saying goes, if you're not prepared to stand behind our troops, feel free to stand in front of them.
One of my favourite watering holes is the Trafalgar - it's the safest place to drink in town, and a great place to chill out and watch rugby.
Today's Indy has an excellent article about the Traf and its bond to the Paras.
The main thrust of the article, though, is the lack of care given by the New Labour swine to our troops - interviews with several of the ex-Paras that drink there highlight the problems that PTSD causes to too many of our ex-servicemen and women.
I've never served (tried to join the Marines but my eyesight's too poor), but have spent many hours in the company of these fine gentlemen, and can attest to their suffering and their sense of abandonment by the country that they fought for.
There's an initiative being run from the pub to try to help the veterans - the Braveheart Programme. They should have charitable status soon, so when they do I suggest we all contribute to this cause rather than the leftist dominated nonsense that is Oxfam or any of the other charities that help the undeserving.
If you read this, please spread the word - as the saying goes, if you're not prepared to stand behind our troops, feel free to stand in front of them.
Monday 13 April 2009
Consummate Dissembling
I've been reading and re-reading our glorious leader's 'apology' (as published on the ever so independent BBC), and find the following phrase extremely telling:
"I am assured that no minister and no political adviser other than the person involved had any knowledge of or involvement in these private emails that are the subject of current discussion."
This is a very carefully constructed sentence - so careful, in fact, that it stands out from the rest of the letter as probably not having been written by Brown.
Note the use of the phrase "the subject of current discussion" - is that needlessly precise, or just lawyerspeak? Brown (or more likely his legal advisors) specifically restricts his denials to the emails that have so far been released - by now he will have the full correspondence between McBride, Draper and whoever else (Two Dinners and Charlie Boy - we're looking at you...) was involved, and will know that there is still more pain to come, provided the MSM has the cojones to publish.
The use of the word 'private' to describe the emails is also disingenuous in the extreme - these emails were sent from a government email account, by a person employed as a civil servant, and are thus subject to FOI rules of disclosure.
The rest of the letter is so clumsily phrased that it could have been written by a politics student - I could have written better English than that 35 years ago, when I was taking my grammar school exams.
I hope Guido releases some more soon - now that Brown has made a noose for his own neck, more revelations could sink the lying evil swine for good, along with the remainder of his rotten Parliament.
Brown's days are numbered, and the writing's on the wall - I for one have the Laurent Perrier on ice.
"I am assured that no minister and no political adviser other than the person involved had any knowledge of or involvement in these private emails that are the subject of current discussion."
This is a very carefully constructed sentence - so careful, in fact, that it stands out from the rest of the letter as probably not having been written by Brown.
Note the use of the phrase "the subject of current discussion" - is that needlessly precise, or just lawyerspeak? Brown (or more likely his legal advisors) specifically restricts his denials to the emails that have so far been released - by now he will have the full correspondence between McBride, Draper and whoever else (Two Dinners and Charlie Boy - we're looking at you...) was involved, and will know that there is still more pain to come, provided the MSM has the cojones to publish.
The use of the word 'private' to describe the emails is also disingenuous in the extreme - these emails were sent from a government email account, by a person employed as a civil servant, and are thus subject to FOI rules of disclosure.
The rest of the letter is so clumsily phrased that it could have been written by a politics student - I could have written better English than that 35 years ago, when I was taking my grammar school exams.
I hope Guido releases some more soon - now that Brown has made a noose for his own neck, more revelations could sink the lying evil swine for good, along with the remainder of his rotten Parliament.
Brown's days are numbered, and the writing's on the wall - I for one have the Laurent Perrier on ice.
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