The Politics of Dancing

20/06/2012 - 17:10:46 British Prime Minister David Cameron today branded comedian Jimmy Carr “morally wrong” for seeking to avoid taxes. To describe Mr Cameron as being guilty of hypocrisy, his own family hardly being strangers to tax avoidance, barely seems strong enough, so I consulted Mr Roget. He gives:- Hypocrisy : affectation , bad faith, bigotry , cant , casuistry, deceit , deception , dishonesty, display , dissembling, dissimulation, double-dealing, duplicity , false profession, falsity, fraud , glibness, imposture, insincerity, irreverence, lie , lip service, mockery , pharisaicalness, pharisaism, phoniness, pietism, quackery, sanctimoniousness, sanctimony, speciousness, unctuousness Well that will do for a start, we might also add some more colloquial terms, bullshit, horse-shit, bollocks, crap, for good measure.   I was extremely amused to read that the recently honoured Gary Barlow, he who organised the patriotic love fest that was the Queens Diamond Jubil

I am writing this in what is, to all intents and purposes a building site. Indeed was told that I needed to wear proper footwear whenever walking around ‘the site,’   particularly in my kitchen which is currently gutted, lying pink with plaster and opened up like an oven ready salmon. All the workmen are Polish, some with little or no grasp of English. This can go from being irritating to being farcical, e.g. one of the site workers was knocking seven shades of shite out of the kitchen wall, I told him either to cover the cooker or remove it from the room. He looked at me rather as you would a rather strange species of gesticulating animal, mumbled something and then returned to hacking away at my defenceless kitchen wall. I finally managed to explain my concerns to the foreman. The Poles are no so much rude as unresponsive, with a few notable exceptions, though relatively hard working and conscientious; whilst the electricians, all for some reason white British tend to be both ru

There is a popular game currently being played in Pakistan, the rules are extraordinarily simple, the only requirement is that you be a Muslim from the predominantly Sunni tradition, then in any dispute with a Christian or one of the minority Muslim sects, when things are going badly you whip out the Blasphemy card, your opponent will go straight to jail, not pass go, not collect £100 and forfeit any houses or hotels collected. In this way the game not only provides hours of fun for all the family it can also be extremely profitable. For those choosing to play the game seriously they can demand the forfeit of death. The popularity of the game has now spread to other countries which practice variants of Sharia law and has even spawned a sub genre of the game called apostate, which can be played against fellow Muslims. Enthusiastic Islamacists have sought, with some success, to export these games to Western democracies. However there are a couple of counter cards that can be playe

I feel that I write this under siege, I have scaffolding around my flat and   roofing contractors above my head, with it is all set to get worse next week when they start work inside my flat gutting and refurbishing my Kitchen and bathroom. Writing will prove difficult, though I’m hoping reading will be possible, ensconced in the protective cave of my bedroom. The only times in my life that have been truly unbearable have been those times when, for whatever reason, I have been unable to read. I have never understood people for whom reading was an optional leisure activity, for me it has always represented an essential element of living, like eating and drinking, food, at the risk of sounding pompous, for the mind.* The weather continues to rain on all our parades not least the Jubilee which received wall to wall coverage in all the British media. One of the particularly irritating aspects of such events is the occasional vox pop’s posing the question, ‘why do you think our dear Que

THE BOOK OF REVERBERATIONS [1] And it came to pass in the land of the Hystericites there dwelt a maker of things, a carpenter and layer of bricks by the name of Bobitus, known to all as Bobitus the builder. And God saw Bobitus and saw that Bobitus was a good and a pious man and a worshiper at the Temple of Hysteria, and thus seeing that Bobitus was a good man who observath the ways of the Lord, the Lord smote him most sorely on the forehead. Bobitus was much perplexed and sayeth unto the Lord, “Oh Lord why doth thy smoteth me so?” And the Lord God seeing that Bobitus was a good and pious man he smoteth him again and sayeth, “Bobitus would thou question the Lord thy God?” And Bobitus was much afraid and fearful lest he be smote again and he sayeth, “No oh Lord, tell me what it is thy need of they faithful servant Bobitus, but please don’t smoteth me again.” And the Lord God sayeth unto Bobitus go forth unto the land of the Ishmaelite, the Carmelite, the Stalagmite and the C

Four men have been found guilty of plotting to kill staff at a Danish newspaper in revenge for its publication in 2005 of cartoons depicting the prophet Muhammad.Three Swedish citizens and a Tunisian were convicted of terrorism over the plot against Jyllands-Posten. One pleaded guilty to illegal possession of weapons, and two were acquitted of the same charge for technical reasons, court officials said. [1] I believe in gravity, that the world is round and that the earth is approximately 4.55 billion years old. These for me represent something profound called ‘the truth,’ and I believe that I could defend, with the assistance of properly tested scientific evidence, all three propositions in open debate.   Those who adhere to the two great monotheisms also hold fast to a set of beliefs, beliefs that they affirm to hold as firmly as my own belief in gravity, amongst these beliefs is the existence of Hell. Now I am an atheist, an unbeliever, a Kuffir and from the point of view of

Better by far the worst elected President than the best hereditary monarch, for they would have been the choice of grown up people, not subjects, not children.  As I was walking out today a drunken man stood in my way. An accusation loud and clear He shouted for the street to hear. ‘Why do you not bend the knee, to our great and glorious majesty? Have you no time to pen a rhyme or send Our Queen a valentine? To sing a song or dance a dance, to raise a toast, To give God thanks? For all of this today is free, to celebrate the jubilee? For five more minutes, Though it seemed longer he blocked my way, he was the stronger. His drunken voice continued to berate that I had failed to celebrate. But then I said what’s here to cheer? I see no bounty offered here. Balloons and bunting lots of flags, and pictures   from the royal ‘mags’; orange juice and flavoured crisps Its party time I’ll give you this. B