Friday, August 31, 2007

Strange Cameraphone Photo

I almost never use my camera phone, due to the fact I've got better ones. So what the hell is this?



















EDIT: This just in... It's the lesser-spotted Maryhill Mob (in latin gerri trightupye) . It's Jaggy Cardoon Thistle! Woo hoo!

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Mack the non-Rant

According to my clustrmap thingy, not many Canadians read this blog. So... I say we get stuck into those workshy, anti-independence, moose-fucking bastards.... what d'ye say? No... oh well...

I'm going to introduce to you a series of random statements and you can tell me what you think of them? They've all been said, uttered or whispered at various times to me.

I'm going to make a rare disclaimer (usually I could care less about what the Sun and Record reading public thought about this blog. Fuck it... most of the time complain to the retard about this blog and see just how much of a fuck I actually give.) BUT, this time, the statements below are not mine. Don't be stupid and automatically assume I subscribe to the comment.

These statements are anonymous and will remain that way. I'm merely curious about your reactions to them...

  1. English people aren't moving to Scotland because they're trying to colonise the place. They see it as being more white than England is, and do not accept multi-culturalism. They want the white Britain of the 50s television sold them in the 70s. English Incomers are in receipt of racism, they're the cause of it.
  2. Prince Michael of Albany wasn't the true heir to the throne. You can tell by the fact that he's still alive.
  3. Socialists who have hubris about their socialism and cringe about their Scottish do so because they prefer sleeping with Socialist Workers to Scottish Nationalists. It's tribal, Kenny, not politics. It never was, not now.
  4. [In response to my self-righteousness about the SSP being more morally right than Tommy Sheridan] People have sex. End of. Are you fucking Jesus? Who gave you the moral right to judge a man when you've done the same? Even if he did, does the man not have the right to save his fucking marriage?
  5. [In response a speaker talking about how Wallace was "watching" over us] If she starts talking like Derek Acorah, I'm leaving. [not thought provoking, but it made me chuckle]
  6. If the Independence Vote in a referendum was closer to losing than winning, it would be better to sabotage the turnout and gain a short-term loss, than lose the referendum with a big turnout and suffer a long term one.
  7. You want to know why people like Wallace? It's because they want it done. They don't want pussy politics, they don't want old men hiding behind democracy and pacifism that sold them out in the miners strike and the Poll Tax. They want one man, standing up, ready to fight and to say fuck you to the aristocracy. They want someone to give them their pride back.
  8. [on why a person didn't vote SSP when I suggested it to them] They claim to be the party of the working man. But all I see is a bunch of people on benefits and incapacity benefit. Nobody seems to give a fuck about the working classes anymore. It's all about the underclasses. Where's our party?
So, reason for the disclaimer should be obvious. Anyone any thoughts? If you don't like using bloggers comments system, email me. kenny.sheerin@gmail.com

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Joke

T minus 24...

Meanwhile a joke from the Maryhill Mob...

A London lawyer runs a stop sign and gets pulled over by a Glasgow polis .
He thinks that he is smarter than the polis because he is a London lawyer and is certain that he has a better education then any scots polis. He decides to prove this to himself and have some fun at the Glasgow polis's expense!!

Glasgow polis says," License, please."
London Lawyer says, "What for?"
Glasgow polis says, "You didn't come to a complete stop at the stop sign."
London Lawyer says, "I slowed down, and no one was coming."
Glasgow polis says, "You still didn't come to a complete stop. License please."
London Lawyer says, "What's the difference?"
Glasgow polis says, "The difference is, you have to come to complete stop,
that's the law. License, please!"
London Lawyer says, "If you can show me the legal difference between slow down and stop, I'll give you my license and you give me the ticket. If not, you let me go and don't give me the ticket."

Glasgow polis says, "Sounds fair. Exit your vehicle, sir."

The London Lawyer exits his vehicle. The Glasgow polis takes out his baton and starts beating the sh*t out of the lawyer and says, "Do you want me to stop, or just slow down?"

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Wikiscanner outs London Bias

This the story of an IP Address. An IP address is merely the number identification of an internet connection. It’s like your National Insurance Number, but for your internet connection rather than your computer.

Wikipedia, where our story takes place, is an encyclopedia. An encyclopedia YOU can go on to, read and edit.

Wikiscanner is a tool designed to unmask anonymous amendments made to Wikipedia. The following list of amendments Wikipedia entries come from IP Address: 194.60.38.10

Or… as the RIPE IP Address database puts it: 
 
netnum:         194.60.0.0 - 194.60.63.255
netname: HOP
descr: Houses of Parliament
country: GB
 
Or more specifically: 
 
person:          Jon Daniels
address: Parliamentary ICT
7 Millbank
London
SW1P 3JA
phone:           +44 20 7219 2001
mnt-by: UK-HOP-MNT
nic-hdl
: JD2618-RIPE
source: RIPE # Filtered
person:          David A J Hamilton
address: Parliamentary ICT
7 Millbank
London
SW1P 3JA
phone:           +44 20 7219 2001
e-mail: postmaster@parliament.uk

nic-hdl
: DH849-RIPE
mnt-by: UK-HOP-MNT
source: RIPE # Filtered
 

Reference: http://www.ripe.net/whois?form_type=simple&full_query_string=&searchtext=194.60.38.10&do_search=Search

The Wikiscanner page I’m using for this search is located here (so you can check for yourself): http://wikiscanner.virgil.gr/f.php?ip1=194.60.38.10&nolimit=1

Tennis Player Andrew Murray is a Twat

This particular computer decided that Andy Murray’s NAME was wrongly designated on Wikipedia. It changed the Wikipedia reference from ‘Andrew “Andy” Murray’ to ‘Andrew “Twat” Murray’.


See: http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=61357681

Labels: personal insults

Spinning the 40% Rule (Scotland Act 1978)

Spin is what Labour brought to the table when they were elected and you can’t accuse them of not applying the same rules to history…

The simple sentence “The British government rejected the referendum because the condition that 40% of the total electorate should vote Yes was not met, and the Act was repealed by Order on 26 July 1979” was rejected in favour of “The British government accepted the result of the referendum in accordance with the Act. Because the condition that 40% of the total electorate should vote Yes was not met, the Act was repealed by Order on 26 July 1979”.

See: http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=52659490

Labels: Spin

Tommy Sheridan – Gang Bangin’

In Tommy Sheridan’s Wikipedia reference, surprisingly it wasn’t his old embittered amigos in the SSP who decided to play up the tabloid stories… but… er… the same British Parliamentary IP address as the ones listed above…

They decided to add: “The tabloid stories included allegations that Sheridan had seduced large numbers of young female SSP members, that he used call girls, and that he had accompanied journalist Anvar Khan to an orgy.”

See: http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=9769410

Labels: personal attacks, defamation of character

Too much time on your hands?

Naturally whichever elected members or parliamentary researchers or millbank technicians altered Wikipedia, its good see they’ve got so much insight, wit and intelligence to keep the Union together…

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=30719253

Apparently BBC6 DJ Marc Riley’s musical are all “shit” according to someone called Tom Kiehl.

Labels: Don’t we pay you for something better than this?

The Militant War

In the 1980s the Labour Party expelled a particularly left-wing group of politicians from its ranks, notably people like Derek Hatton and Tommy Sheridan.

Over four separate edits, a series of names were added to the article to make sure no-one was in any doubt who the bad boys were.

This very British computer felt it necessary to tell tales out of school and grass up all the lefties who were chucked out of the labour party.

The baiting failed. The edit acquired “disputed neutrality” tag only succeeded in baiting Militants to actually expand the bloody article.

See for yourself:

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=74719741

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=74719842

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=74720560

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=74720997

And the current article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Militant_tendency

Labels: Baiting the commies

The Shona McIssac Edit War

I’m not going to lie to you, I never heard of this wummin until she cropped up on the Wikiscanner. The first thing I noticed was the removal of criticism from Ms. McIssacs Wikipedia reference.

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=137413484

Fortunately though, sanity broke out and the same IP address deleted a fictional “she’s married to Frank Skinner” reference. Phew.

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=137413658

Er… then it deleted the rest of the article altogether…

I hadn’t heard of this wummin before and now she was disappearing before my eyes… Was she so anorexic that her entire history was disappearing?

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=137413803

Phew. Some nice editor who doesn’t mind people knowing his user name called “YJwong” then put it all back up again.

Until my current favour IP address deleted all again. Boo hiss. I was never going to learn who the hell Shona is at this rate…

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=137425292

By this point, clearly 194.60.38.10 is getting a bit sick of deleting everything and merely amends the web page by removing that strange reference that she’s married to comedian Frank Skinner by saying: “Deleted stupid and incorrrect reference to her marrying comedian Frank Skinner.” This technically is correct. Apparently she’s married to some guy called Peter. But since would clearly have preferred to delete EVERYTHING… I’m think “Hello Kettle? Erm… It’s pot. We’ve been talking about what colour you are…)

http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?diff=prev&oldid=137434579

I left it there since I got bored… You can understand…

Labels: Censorship

Monday, August 27, 2007

T minus 28 days...

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Neurocam and Scotland

http://www.neurocam.com

If you are 'cammer... this blog post is not for you. It's for my countrymen. I'm trying to change their perceptions. Fanks.

In the beginning was the word, and the word was: "Neurocam is not..."

But before we get to that, let me take you back, way back, to Danny Wallace. Danny Wallace was an English writer and comedian. He wrote various boy's adventures with his amigo, Dave Gorman and they both invented a genre of writing that would be copied ad infinitum by lesser comedians. They would document their escapades in book form as a comedy / information / travelogue. Danny eventually wrote on his own (like Dave Gorman would) a book called "Join Me". In it, he put an ad in a newspaper saying: "Join Me" and gave an instruction (to send a passport photo) and to send their address to him. The book documents his attempt to found a "nice" cult. He did so. You can find it here: http://www.join-me.co.uk

Robin Hely, an australian artist, launched a similar project in conjunction with a bunch of people I don't know called "Neurocam" an arthouse project aimed at changing the perceptions of whoever wanted their perceptions changed. They'd use lies, damned lies, obfuscation, espionage mythos and showmanship to "Derren Brown" the general public into compliance. The world would listen, for a time, and it was all secret and mysterious and lovely.

I joined neurocam for a couple of months, and still find myself lurking on their main board, the Neuroboards. Scotland has her own Neurocam, under different circumstances and different names. We have the Stone of Destiny and Roslin Chapel. But nothing modern, and nothing so imaginative. Neurocam is... Derren Brown. It's about using showmanship and creating something from nothing.

What I'd like, is for Scotland to do something as captivating and use it to change who we are. Why? Because we find ourselves stuck inside that moment from Trainspotting where Ewan McGregor / Renton says: "It's shite being Scottish..." We seem stuck inside our ain mediocrity and this depresses me.

What I want my bloggerino's to do, is to type "Neurocam" into whatever search engine you prefer and go down the rabbit hole for a bit. End up on blogs that speak in tongues and learn to be entertained by the name "Chris Titan" or "Teigan".

Finally... think what YOU can do with this new knowledge for your brothers and sisters.

Elderslie Autopsy

Slight music review from Elderslie Wallace Day yesterday. One, Ted Christopher played two sets. One was good. The other was astonishingly good. Albannached played a couple of sets when they eventually turned up. It's the best I've seen them. They blew the roof off the feckin' place. I guess a bit of healthy competition from The Trybe and Clann an Drumma (who I like, but still maintain have a website designed by a five-year-old) is a good thing. Put it this way, I liked the set so much I'm going to try and incorporate it somehow into the novel I'm currently writing.

Anyway, march and rally were both good. The SNP old guard were out in force to flank David R Ross and the Wallace Society elite.

I managed to foist myself on the Feegie Park crew for the night and that was a blast... with the slightly confusing news that a certai RFS co-DJ emailed hunners of her friends to promote my blog and then subsequently sabotaged the entire attempt because I have a link... er... to her...

Props to the Wallace Society for conducting the only raffle in human history to give prizes to everyone in the room. Some of whom hadn't even bought a ticket. I got a bottle of Blossom Hill Wine.

Only thing is... I did the march and rally on autopilot. I spent the march talking to an SRSM amigo about secret behind-the-scenes stuff about fall-outs and shinto. At the rally I met a guy who used to be an old website I did. David Ross did a good job of spicing up his speech and making it good. Other ones though... I've heard it before. And we repeat it because it needs to repeating, because some people haven't heard it before. Billy Wolfe good inducted in the Nationalist Hall of Fame, which was good as well.

I just think we need something different. The parties afterwards: as nationalists, we could give masterclasses in doing shindigs. It's the bit beforehand which we need to work on. It's getting repetitive or just plain boring. This isn't an attack on Elderslie, that was a goody (not in a Bill Oddie sense, you understand). I'm thinking more about Glencoe last Feb. That was farcical and I was partially responsible. It's also the fact that the majority of the talking after the events is about the party afterwards. To me this suggests we still have some way to go selling the message. My enduring memory, though, will be a room full of hairy-knee'd-fundies grooving to Ted Christopher singing the theme tune to Balamory...

Friday, August 24, 2007

Elderslie Reminder

Tomorrow. Elderslie. 3pm.

Go to Central Station, get a train to Johnstone. When you leave Johnstone, turn left. Follow the flags.

It's that simple.

(and thanks to Glasgow for the picture)

Thursday, August 23, 2007

History is Dead / Secrets and Allegories

"Libraries gave us power, then work came and made us free." Manic Street Preachers.

Democracy came to us, in it's present form, via the 1832 and 1868 Reform Acts (date for SCOTLAND). These acts successively extended the vote from Sussex males, to neuvo-riches males to the rest of the male population. Eventually it was given to women as well. Alongside this Education (the 1870 Education Act) would seek to educate the masses. Conveniently for people like me these concessions to basic human rights would come after a series of rebellions in Scotland and Ireland. Either way, the working classes in the 19th Century started to have a say in their own affairs, and be able to read and think for themselves.

Literacy, though, is not kind to history. Neither is the present. The John Maclean Society is dead, only existing in the shadowy heirarchy of the SRSM and even then... you can't just JOIN. The 1820 Society barely even warrants a mention on Wikipedia (which will talk about just anything). You can join THAT. While you can... There's even a Thomas Muir of Huntershill Society. But you can't join that, either. It's... secret. The only open, relevant and useful Historical Society today is the Society of William Wallace. Unlike the 1820 Society, it has at it's head the charismatic and alledgedly transexual (no... sorry... that was a joke, wasn't it?) David R Ross.

Why? The Republicans in Scotland exist in the shadows. Secret alliances, hidden agendas and politics for the future don't require propaganda. They require results, and sometimes allowing you to join a historical group isn't the best method of preserving the memory. William Wallace, on the other hand was too stubborn to concede, too stubborn to die when he was supposed to and too stubborn to accept what the hell anyone else had to say about Scotland if it wasn't in ALL our names. Each generation since his eventual death would resurrect him in their own image because of the stark, brilliant and easily malliable for their own intents.

What if I told you there was a veil in Scotland? Political movements behind and beyond apparently benign movements? Should I be posted as a David Icke in the making? I always wondered why the YSI disliked Siol nan Gaidheal. The Siol in my book were the good guys, the ones who silently built cairns, wore black t-shirts and made up the numbers at rallies that would have died without them. It can't have been because of membership, because the YSI were made up of young people, and the Siol have potbellies and drinking habits more akin to Hell's Angels than Student's learning the art.

I was recently told a Story about the Wallace Watcher. It extended something I already knew. At Cambuskenneth Abbey there is a Stone called "the Wallace Stone" where, if you bother to go, you will see a stone directly pointing at the Abbey Craig hill. It is said that one of Wallace's appendages is buried under it, and sometimes a White Rose, or a Thistle is left for him. A minority of people know this legend. Even less know the tale of the Wallace Watcher. On August 23rd, at dusk, a tall man, wrapped in Wallace Plaid in the Old Style, with his face masked by a scarf walks up from the Riverside Ruin, when there's no-one near the stone. He stops for a minute, withdraws a half-drunk bottle of Whiskey, most recently an old Glenlivit, and puts it on the Wallace Stone with a White Rose and a Thistle. He leaves via the Riverside Ruin and is never seen again until the next year. The story is so scant and little know that only those who have bother to go the Wallace Stone on the day can bear witness to the event.

History is the perspective of the present. It often doesn't matter how many people know the truth, but only those few who do.

Today I was in Cambuskenneth and I saw a man at the Wallace Stone, but couldn't see his face. Make of it what you will.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Harry Potter and the How Great is Britain? episode

I have a source. We'll call him: "The Source". He sends me stuff that the British Government is using for Propaganda purposes. This piece is J.K. Rowling's top-secret sequel Short Story to the 7 Harry Potter books. It represents all that is Great and Good in Britain. It's about why we shouldn't be voting for Scottish Independence. It's about how we... You get the point.

Harry Potter and How Great is Britain?
Harry Potter was inside Hagrid’s cabin, at the start of yet another year at Hogwarts. He gazed upon Hagrid’s umbrella, which held the remnants of the wand which had been destroyed when he was a student, like Harry.

Unlike Harry he had bred a big, giant fuck-off spider using Genetic Modification and cloning techniques he had learned at various British Scientific establishments.

Harry was, at that particular moment, performing a “Wingadium Leviosa” spell upon a genetic experiment to see if it was possible to cross a House Elf with the lead Singer of Napalm Death and a Liberal Democrat Backbencher. He curious to see if you can breed something which won’t marry a fucking cheeky girl…

Harry left Hagrid’s cabin and decided to pay a visit to Dumbledore’s grave because Dumbledore died in the previous book. Harry decided to cry for a bit so that the readers would feel some kind of sympathy for a character who was a blatant rip off of King Arthur pre-Sword in the Stone (the event, not the crappy Disney movie).

Meanwhile, back in the Gryffindor female residence, Hermione Granger was speaking with Cho Chang.

“Hi Cho!” quoth Hermione.

“Hi Hermy” said Cho.

“Cho, I’m looking to move out of my parent’s house. Do Wizards do Council Housing?” Hermione asked.

“Yes they do,” replied Cho, “Why do you want to know?”

“Do they have the same rules as a muggle Council for getting a place?”

“Surprising they do!” Cho confirmed.

“That’s good,” Hermione giggled, “Because I’m going to get Ron Weasley to knock me up so I can get to top of the housing list and not have to wait in a list behind English people buying up all the decent properties and, frankly, because I just can’t be bothered!”

“But Hermy, do you know that the Child Support Agency is going to be scrapped and you might not be able to get money off Ron until the ministry of magic fails to replace the previous one?”

“I do, Cho,” Hermione verified, “Ron’s currently at the Career advisor about his future right now.”

Ron Weasley was sitting uncomfortably and nervous in Professor McGonagle’s Office.

“As the token Scottish Person in this series of books, I’m required to help you with your career advancement so that we can move this plot along and pretend that Scots are an important part of this fantasy British sub-culture.”

“Great, Professor McG!” Ron replied, instantly brightening up.

“So, Ron, what do you want to do with your life?”

“Well, professor, since I have ginger hair, stereotypes persist that I’m of Scottish stock living in England, so I’ve got two options, One, I sell Weasley Hollow for a bundle and buy a cheap Scottish Estate and get all my friends to move up nearby. Unfortunately we Weasleys have no money, so I’ve got secret option number 2. I’m in that minority of people who are predisposed by genetics to get schizophrenia from Skunk Cannabis, and therefore I’d like to smoke enough of it to become mentally ill and go on Incapacity Benefit for the rest of my natural life. Thing is, prof, I quite like watching Jeremy Kyle.”

“Go and see Longbottom, Weasley. Amongst other things, he’s Gryffindor’s dealer.”

Because of Neville Longbottom’s links to Loyalist Paramilitaries, he had TWO major items on his life at this point. Firstly, he dealt homegrown Skunk weed and gave half the profits to the Red Hand Defenders and was a screaming Nazi. Secondly, and currently he operated the “Fagwatch” website to out closet smokers. Presently he was trying to decide from a magazine clipping if celebrated German Socialist, Dramatist, Poet and all round good-egg Bertolt Brecht was a smoker or not. He definitely looked like the type to marry a Cheeky Girl.

He was interrupted by Ron.

“Dude, I need some…”

“This isn’t about that Schizo plan you’ve concocted to get yourself on Wizard’s incapacity benefit, is it?”

“Erm… Uh-huh.”

“Seamus told me. That was BY FAR the dumbest thing I’ve heard in years. For one thing, it won’t work. For another, Cannabis is used for several important societal functions. 1) If you don’t like Cannabis: throw out all your records. Most of those cats were high. 2) It makes shit musicians think they can play better and 3) It gives pretentious people a cause to unite around that will never succeed, but will keep them occupied enough so that they’ve avoiding controversial and “important” issues that might benefit them like health, education and communism.”

“So how am I supposed to get Incapacity Benefit?”

“The same boring, inconsequential way everyone else gets Incapacity Benefit. Get plastered the night before and lie.”

“So you won’t sell me any?”

“Nope. I don’t have to. It’s THAT easy to get it. And in doing so I’m breaking all kinds of CSTU regulations.”

“What are CSTU regulations?”

“Cannabis Sellers Trade Union Regulation number one: Never ditch a sale.”

“But what if you’re selling to a muggle copper?”

“Our best customers are muggle coppers! What the hell have you got against muggle coppers?!?”

“So why can’t I get some?”

“Oh. You’re going to get some. Hermione ordered you some Viagra. She needs a Council House.”

Harry, meanwhile, had received a curious summons from Professor Dumbledore. He returned inside and entered the familiar spiral staircase which led up to the Headmaster’s Office.

The current Headmaster, Professor Erik von Markovik had replaced Severus Snape upon the latter’s death. Professor Erik was presently tutoring Ginny Weasley and Cho Chang and so Harry was alone with Dumbledore’s painting.

Dumbledore wasn’t there. It was empty, except for a used Chocolate Frog wrapper. Harry stared at it for a second before approaching the table where the headmaster’s pet usually resided. Fawkes, the Phoenix, was obviously long gone. In it’s place was a pile of runes and a deck of cards. While he was staring at them, Dumbledore appeared.

“Harry…” he stated, almost ‘matter-of-fact’.

“I guess you already know I’m repeating my final year…”

“I do Harry. Do you know why I’ve called you here?”

“Because I had to spend an extra year getting bummed because this is a public school?”

“No, Harry. A dark enemy has appeared!”

Harry spat: “Voldemort?”

“No. Muggle scientists have combined two sets of DNA in a hybrid project aimed at matching Wizard culture.”

“Dear God Professor…” Harry said, shocked beyond repair, “You don’t mean…”

“I do, Harry. The Gordon Brown / Michael Portillo Hybrid.”

“It’s… It’s… inhuman! It will have the mathematics skills of your average big brother contestant, and the dancing skills of ‘South Park on ice’!”

“Yes, Harry. But there is a further problem.”

“It gets worse?!??!?!”

“The hybrid is protected. Harry… You’re about seventeen right now. The protective shield will be difficult to resist for someone of your age.”

“How do I break through.”

“I’ve no idea.”

“What’s the shield?”

Dumbledore ignored the question: “At one end of the room is the Hybrid. All you have to do is turn the life support off and to save us all. For reasons which should unclear to you, but strangely obvious to whomever has bothered to read this far… It’s the button marked ‘Vote Independence’.”

“God that was obvious…”

“I know, Harry, I know…”

“That was so obvious I think I need a shower!”

“Focus, Harry.”

“What’s the shield?”

“I cannot help you. You will need to see for yourself. Go to the Room of Requirements.”

Harry, predictably, went to the room of requirements. Maybe he sauntered. Maybe he marched angrily. Maybe he jumped up in the air and clicked his heels together in glee as if he was a gay jazz fan in a 1940s movie who had just been sodomised by Rock Hudson. Either way, he got to the Room of Requirements.

As promised, at the end of the Room was the Portillo / Brown hybrid. Harry, though, could see the enormity of the shield protecting it. It was designed purely for a 17-year-old boy.

The shield generator was a giant heart shaped bed with pink satin sheets. Inside the bed were Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. Presumably naked. It would be fun finding out. In the background was the classic end-of-the-night School Disco anthem, the one where you danced with the girl you thought you couldn’t get with a hard-on as hard as a Mars Bar just out the fridge: Careless Whisper by George Michael.

Choose Independence or The Olsens… Harry was a half-written English fop designed for Children and fawned over by illiterati who frankly should know better, but either way he was naked faster than a bat out of hell that’s going home for a shag and some kraft cheesy pasta.

Professor McGonagle, however, was the token Scottish. She unfortunately wasn’t married at fifty and was probably a spinster. In my book she’s a lesbian and joined them. Harry thought “Fuck it… Three-way!” and got stuck in. Either way he was a Hogwarts legend.

Eventually…

“But…”

“Just do it, boy!” Professor Snape spat.

“But why do I have to save the day?”

“All I’m asking is that you TOUCH THE BUTTON marked ‘Vote Independence’. It’s not hard. Unlike what you USUALLY touch, you fucking Girls Aloud fan, you… You touch stuff all the time. That’s why we made you wear boxing gloves at night! Otherwise we’d be changing your sheets four times as often as everyone else and CSI viewers would be gathering around your bed with Ultraviolet lamps all the time.”

“Doesn’t Gryffindor usually do this?”

“Potter is too busy shagging to notice. And frankly, I’m the most popular character in the books, so at least ONCE I get some fucking glory. And honestly, it’s not like Daniel Radcliffe is GOING to have a career once this Shinto is overwith…”

And so, for once, Slytherin and Snape saved the day. Kind of.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Leaked Election Document...

Oh. My. God. I finally got myself an exclusive... Following the recently Vichy Parly election loss by the Labour Party, there was an autopsy by Douglas "Big No Surrender" Alexander into how best to take the Labour Party agenda forward.

I didn't think I'd get it... but I did.

The Gospel According to Saint Bastard

The Following should be evangelised by the faithful

From Douglas “big no surrender” Alexander

Labour Briefing from Whitehall to Scottish Members
Holy
City

Londinium

[Branch comments in quotes, “Big No Surrender” replies in italics underneath]

17 July 2007

Suggestions from the Scottish Labour Party Regarding Operation “Britishness is good… no really; listen we’re really really really nice now…”


Motherwell and Wishaw Branch (Jack “who’s crying now” McConnell’s branch)

“We need to focus people on traditional BRITISH business, and how they’re safer under labour. No-one else has done as much for the promotion of pinstripe kilts, having multiple Jaguars and the Durex Industry for all those trips away with your secretary than Labour has…”

BNS (Big No Surrender): [said with venom] Dear god Barbie, you really were a waste of oxygen, weren’t you? I remember our discussions on the election, your big plan was to say to the Scottish Electorate: “Aw c’mon…! They’re no’ nice…! Puh-leease?”

Paisley North Branch (Wendy Alexander’s Branch)

“We need to make virtue of the fact that Scotland in SNP hands is about as safe as getting Iain Brady and Myra Hindley to be your babysitters.”

BNS: Finally some ideas I can get on board with, sis. It’s brilliant, you’re a star! This is why you’re the primo nexto leadero… The Gigantic Tuna, the Fiona to Gordy’s Shrek, the chocolate body paint in that game we played as kids and promised never to talk about again. Oh, and Jack? Didn’t think you were going the same way as those guys in Red Sweaters in Star Trek? Didn’t think you were “Doing a Lady Di” or hearing: Tick tock tick tock…

Cumbernauld and Kilsyth Branch (Central Belt Clone Branch)

[like Sean Connery from the Untouchables] “You wanna know how to get Salmond? They pull a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. *That's* the *Lanarkshire* way! And that's how you get Salmond.”

BNS: Holy Buddah, I’d get more sense if I allowed a big brother Contestant to be an MSP in the Central Belt, wouldn’t I? But let’s be honest, Lanarkshire gets most of its best ideas from American films with Robert De Niro in it, doesn’t it? You remember that time during the election where we asked for suggestions how to beat Nicola Sturgeon and you suggested that she slept “with the Fishes” and we spent a thousand pounds on Private Detectives following the former lead singer of Marillion around for three months?

Trade Union Representation: Mr Norbert White-Flighty, Bsc, Ssc (Bronze Swimming Certificate, Silver Swimming Certificate) *that joke courtesy of BBC’s Red Dwarf…*

“Naturally the Trade Unions see Britishness in Marxian terms. Consequently, we need to batter some nationalists. The Trade Unions haven’t be THAT busy of late, so I suggest that London shuts down a few mines, steelworks, or whatever those bloody jockos are up to these days, so that we can get a good old fashioned strike going. This has benefits outwith the party though. Strikes mean that the Socialist Workers Party get to horizontally recruit some gingers and we get them in OUR party when the SWP has bored the living shinto out of them… I mean, you’ll be the one doing it, but we can still blame Bridget Sturgeon and get stuck in!”

BNS: When the great Architect was giving out brains, you didn’t even bother queuing, did you? I mean, the Labour Party got rid of most of the Scottish Trade Unions by Amalgamating them with English ones years ago, and Thatcher didn’t shut most of the Scottish pits because we’d already gotten there first! We just didn’t take the blame… Oh, wait a minute… great idea! Get that man a seat in Airdrie!

In Summary: Big No Surrender’s Jerry Springer Summing Up Moment:

THESE were the best suggestions. Pathetic, utterly reprehensibly bad. Sheer monotonous rubbish. Aside from sis. But she’s always been good: WORSHIP HER! Back when we were sixteen, and our parents planned our wedding before the Social Services became involved… [edited by Whitehall]

Sunday, August 12, 2007

NODP Information Film... Ra Sequel...

On this blog there appeared a film, which taught the unteachable how to burn union jacks.

Now I just had a idea.

I want the next one to be the "with a vengence" to it's Die Hard.

I'm the only person capable of doing this, precisely because of the sheer senseless disregard I have for my own well being.

Now I need ten disposable lighters, and some kindling...

Friday, August 10, 2007

Schmoozing...

I've been ignoring you... haven't I?

I'm sorry. It's not you... it's me... You're a lovely person, honest. I've just been busy. There's been no-one else. I swear. Hand on heart... I know you've heard this before but I mean it.

Today I was in a meeting with the Director of Finance with North Lanarkshire Council. And my boss. Not the one above me, not the one above her but the one above that. Uber-Boss and Uber-Uber-Uber-boss and me in one office. Uber-uber boss was on holiday. In Rothesay. Or Crete. Dunno. We don't talk much.

Had my stash of sniper rifles, weapons grade skunk and subscription to "Nationalist Girls Digest" been discovered and was I in big big big trouble? Nope. Fortunately all three of those LUP (lay up points) are still safe.

Do I mention this to boast slash show off? No. I mention this to whinge. I bought a guitar about three weeks ago from John. It was nice and shiny and black and I practised without fail every day. Then I got a call from the Crazy Frog. Crazy frog say: "Protect the innocent. Uphold the law." And I did. Kind of. Just started actually... Crazy Frog is a Union Steward. I'm a union steward. But I was to talk to uber-bosses and ask why they were sacking 16 people. I did and they're not.

All of this means that for three weeks my nice shiny new guitar was loved, and played and cared for. And YOU were loved, and played an cared for. And for the past week or so, Bessie, as I like to call her... was unloved. She sulked in her rack. She didn't get to play my version of Flower of Scotland. She didn't get my to toy with the knobs on the amp which made it all distorty and nice and then to knock out possibly the quickest and noisiest version of Flower of Scotland you're never going to hear. She didn't get to get "Keep on Rockin' in the Free World" played with me amending the lyrics to "Na na na na Radio Free Scot-land..."

But I've been ignoring you for slightly longer. Now I've said sorry and I can turn bessie my shiny black guitar on with a clear conscience.

On some news note, you'll notice the "almost illuminated" section has gone. Byesie bye and hello cluster map. I have NO idea what it does.


Revelations