Le grand méchant loup

New Blog...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 20:51:00 +0000

I will keep this place running for a while so that the search engine crawlers can catch up, but the blog has moved...

http://www.rickjoshua.com/loupblog

Enjoy.

Ten Days...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 12:47:00 +0000

It has been a while... Which says something about how busy I have been. Between work and the last week's excellent time at the War and Peace Show, time has just flown by. It hasn't helped that there have been a glut of news headlines that have been utterly depressing - I have had enough of ranting about this, that and the other every day. Children being beaten to death by their so-called parents. An accident victim being left lying face down in a ditch because the situation was too "dangerous" for the emergency services. A woman who has had a dozen children - all of whom have been removed from her care - demanding another one.

The truth is that a large number of people in this country need a quickly-administered bullet to the back of the skull.

It sounds cruel, but who would really miss these people? Their relatives would mourn for a few minutes I suppose - before going back to their miserable lives sponging off the rest of society.

Take the example of the mother - I use the word "mother" lightly - of the tragic Baby P, who has claimed that life after she emerges from jail "will be one long party". This is a person whose child was abused, beaten and murdered for pity's sake - and yet this miserable piece of shit is looking forward to "getting drunk and having sex". Of course, this will only result in her having another child, who will either be brought up in the same drudgery or spend most of its life in the "care" system, which itself is rotten to the core.

This woman should at the very least be spayed, and in all honesty it would not be too much of a loss to society if she just was made to disappear. What function do such people serve? What is their purpose, beyond the spreading of misery? Are our lives made any richer by their existence? Of course, such people keep the care industry in their jobs. It is in the interest of these career pen-pushing do-gooders to keep the factory operating; after all, why would these people kill the goose that is laying the golden egg?

I may sound cynical, but it does serve to explain why those in this system who do actually care about what they are doing are often accused of "rocking the boat" or called "whistleblowers". It is no different at the top of chain in government, where hundreds of men have been killed in a desert hell hole at the behest of a criminal government that is rich in doctored sound bites but completely lacking in principle and moral fortitude - and those who have sought to expose the scame have been driven to suicide.

It's the ultimate in socialist social engineering: you set up something that is unplanned or inefficient, and then staff if with idiots and jobsworths. When the inevitable hits the fan, you simply employ another layer of idiots to watch the first lot. And so on.

And I said I didn't want to get into a rant. Pfft.

Keep your doors locked and windows up...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 11:58:00 +0000

Reading the above advice, you'd think you were in the Bronx. Or Peckham. Or some other run-down shithole. But no, this is the advice currently being meted out to all cross-Channel travellers making their way through the port of Calais.

Apparently, the ever-present and seemingly ever-growing army of illegal immigrants camped in the area are resorting to a new trick to raise funds: setting up human roadblocks in order to stop and then rob passing drivers.

Well, I suppose it makes a change from threatening lorry drivers with baseball bats.

It's a good thing that I usually take the Eurotunnel in making my way across to the continent; you are straight into a secure zone from the motorway and back out again, and there are no obvious gathering points for the would-be roadblockers - unless, of course, they want to take their chances with the fast-moving A16 heading out of the terminal. It must be a nightmare for those taking the more leisurely ferry route however, with the threat of a holiday ending before it has even begun - all thanks to a complete lack of any political will to do anything about this problem.

It's like a gaping wound: the politicians either bandage it over in the vain hope that it goes away, or just keep picking at the scabs.

Of course, it just needs one politician with enough conviction to decide that enough is enough, and that people just going about their way shouldn't expect to have their car being placed under siege by marauding bandits out for a free meal ticket. If these people are genuine refugees, then they should be housed in appropriate secure accommodation to await whatever decisions need to be made. If not, they should be carted without ceremony onto the first available aircraft and sent on their merry way back to their country of origin.

As for how to deal with those who might chose to set up human roadblocks with the aim of committing robbery, I'd suggest that the next driver who faces the challenge put his or her foot on the accelerator. But then they'll probably get hauled up for depriving some buck-toothed criminal of his "human rights". Boo.

The world is under threat again...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 18:17:00 +0000

Erm, yeah.

When I read the rather bizarre headline Police investigate 'Nazi' gnome I thought here we go again - yet another piece on poor old Bernie Ecclestone.

But no.

It turns out the furore is about a garden gnome created for an exhibition by a Nuremberg-based artist, Ottmar Hörl - who maintains that like many other pieces of art the little man with his right arm outstretched is simply a parody designed to mock rather than celebrate the Third Reich.

The Nazi Zwerg. I am actually surprised that nobody has noticed that it looks a little like Eugene Terre'Blanche.

Whether one chooses to believe the artist or not, this is yet another rather boring tale of people getting into a merry flap about this now rather dull issue. If the gnome had been baring his behind or copulating with a ceramic duck, it would have been lauded by the so-called critics as a witty piece of modern irony with a rather twee twist. Or something.

Next!

A quick one...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 14:53:00 +0000

No news:
Australia: British backpacker Jamie Neale silent as questions about his ordeal grow

How can someone survive for twelve days in such extreme conditions only to emerge looking as bright as a button with a few cuts and bruises? Sounds a bit fishy to me. Before the press start handing this imbecile silly money for selling his story, they should check out every single last detail first.

Bad news:
Pickpockets and bag snatches rise 25 per cent, British Crime Survey shows

I wonder if somebody somewhere will look at the influx of Romanies from Balkan and Eastern Europe and put two and two together... Erm, probably not. It's a damn good thing I don't travel much on the tube, though - I wouldn't put it past one of them to try and pull off the sheep trick.

Good news:
Cherie Blair has suspected swine flu

Couldn't happen to a better person, though we shouldn't be surprised given that she has had her snout buried in the trough from the start. Let's hope that it is the most virulent strain and the pillarbox-mouthed, cat-hating, money-grubbing wicked witch passes it on to her equally odious husband. Ugh!

Farewell Colonel...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 13:55:00 +0000

It has been a rough last couple of days: on Monday we took Withnail, our portly and furry cat, to the vet after he had been seriously lethargic and had refused to eat for a day. The lethargy was nothing new for he was a fairly large chap and had over the years acquired the demeanour of a crusty old colonel, but the loss of appetite was worrying.

Despite all this, Withnail was still bright-eyed and showed no obvious signs of dehydration; his exaggerated slouch however suggested that he might have been suffering from some sort of joint problem. The vet seemed to agree, but suggested he have a blood test just in case. The injection he was given to relieve the joint pain didn't seem to have much of an effect, but we thought nothing of it until we got a call back later in the day with the news that the blood test had revealed serious abnormalities with his kidneys. Although this was a shock after the initial spot-check diagnosis, we were able to mentally prepare ourselves with the idea of him being put on a special long-term diet after coming home.

The Old Colonel as we will always remember him... Slouching about in the garden.

Withnail was an animal that always defied convention and was something of an unique character. He'd always announce himself with his distinctive chirrup when walking into the living room, would purr loudly in anticipation of being given a cuddle or a morsel of food, and would give us his own unique warning when he walked in soaked by the rain. He even treated the small creatures he caught differently from most other cats: rather than toy with them until they dropped dead of sheer exhaustion, he'd perform what could best be described as extensive surgery - with the mouse or rat looking like one of those cleanly-prepared specimens you'd see sitting on a desk in a biology class. His defying convention at every turn also bamboozled the vets - despite the fact that he would have been in obvious pain, he continued to not show the obvious signs of deterioration.

I am guessing that Withnail was either a doctor or biology teacher in a previous life...

It took an ultrasound scan to confirm what was actually wrong: one of his kidneys had clearly packed up, and what might have been months or even years of living like this had clearly overworked the other one. Most mammals can get by happily with the one kidney, and cats in particular are very good at not showing outward signs of distress until it becomes acute; these factors led to what was in the end a very rapid deterioration. Having been informed of the situation, the vets - and Caroline and I - concluded that there could be only one practical solution.

So we drove to the hospital in Richmond late on the Tuesday night, braving the horrendous London roads and a maniacal search for a petrol station that was still open, to say our final farewell. It was utterly gut-wrenching as Withnail still looked his same old self, purring gently as we both spoke to him. In spite of the vet telling us that we might witness convulsions when that moment came, the old colonel remained calm to the last and passed away quietly.

A striking shot of the Colonel, sitting proudly like a tiger in the long grass.

We buried the old chap yesterday in the garden; it was so sudden that I am still half-expecting him to come blundering in through the cat flap either in search of a drop of tuna juice or carrying half a dead pigeon for our perusal. I am convinced that should any other cat head towards the nearby plants to do its business, they will get that uncompromising glare and protracted hiss.

RIP Colonel.

Incapability Brown...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 10:08:00 +0000

You've just got to love this Government of ours - what a bloody shower they are. Unwanted wars, financial fiddling, the rebranding of Peter Mandelson, the constant stream of lies... And now what looks like a full-on war with the Army top brass over Afghanistan.

For having the temerity to question Government policy regarding both funding and troop numbers in Afghanistan, chief of Army general staff Sir Richard Dannatt has been roundly turned on by these scowling apparatchiks, and accused of playing a "high-risk game" by daring to step out of line. As if these morally bankrupt imbeciles would know anything about risk - unless, of course, they are talking about gambling with billions of pounds of taxpayers' money.

They are beneath contempt, and if the Labour Party are condemned to a thousand years in the political wilderness I wouldn't shed a tear. They are hypocrites, the entire lot of them - from Gordon Brown right down to his lowest-ranked horned minion.

One the many foul little minions is one David Crausby MP, who offered the following:

"It is not appropriate to play party politics at this time. Dannatt should just get on with the job. After the conflict, if there are lessons to be learnt, we should do so in a considered manner."

After the conflict? This moron is having a laugh, isn't he? After the conflict? What, after the troops are finally withdrawn after suffering unnecessary losses due a lack of manpower, supplies and equipment? Just who is this David Crausby anyway? Is he a man with an experience of the military or military life? Someone who knows about putting his neck on the line? Er, no. Just some former trade union hack and local councillor. A pencil-necked apparatchik.

It gets worse when one has a look at the background of the man who currently holds the position of Secretary of State for Defence - former union boss Bob Ainsworth, a one-time candidate for the International Marxist Group.

Big in the 1980s, the IMG was a rag-tag bunch of anti-imperialists, pro-Soviet, pro-IRA types, the sort of pondlife that would not exactly be well disposed towards the Armed Forces. This is the same Bob Ainsworth who, in response to a Tory MP's complaint about soldiers receiving shoddy equipment in early 2008, uttered "absolute bollocks" - a statement that was initally recorded by Hansard but subsequently scratched from the record at the suggestion of the former Speaker Michael Martin.

A better life for hardworking families, Mr Ainsworth? What a load of absolute bollocks. Grow that moustache a bit and do a little more with your hair, and you can even get to look like your hero Uncle Joe.

Of course, we all know about Michael Martin - he of the expenses scandal and the perhaps even more scandalous involvement in the unwarranted arrest of Tory MP Damian Green. I wonder what other things the man known as "Gorbals Mick" might have brushed under the carpet before scurrying off in a huff to his little hole.

Dirty secrets and even dirtier lies, cover-ups, expense fidding, political skullduggery, politically-correct kowtowing - this lot have seen and done it all. When you throw into the mix the ceaseless stream of mind-bending spin and the sort of feeble excuses one would expect a six-year old child to have grown out of, you really want to put them against a wall and shoot them.

Though hopefully matters might be taken out of our hands, for according to one report, a strain of the infamous swine flu has reached Downing Street. Whether this is yet another attempt at spin to garner sympathy - it's not just you who are at risk, silly British public, it's us as well - we all know that if Incapability Brown and his crowd were to go down with the lurgy they'd be given the best possible care at our expense, and not placed in some MRSA-ridden dump staffed by auxiliaries from God-knows-where who scratch their behinds, don't wash their hands because water offends their religion and cannot even speak English.

Of course, we could always pack the One-eyed Scottish Idiot™ and his buddies off to a field hospital in Helmand Province so they can see what the Army have to cope with. Now that would be a vote-winner.

When Gordon met Gaddafi...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 11:38:00 +0000

I laugh every time I see an image of Gordon Brown - who often looks as though he is going to catch and kill a fly - though not as impressively as Barack Obama. Then there is Libyan leader Colonel Gaddafi, who looks more like a cartoon caricature every day.

Imagine, then, the sight of these two in one photo taken at the G8 summit in Italy....

A true meeting of minds. Tweedledum and Tweedledumber...

You've just got to love Gaddafi's oversized "Africa" brooch and the stick on medal ribbons... I want one of those! Though I am not so keen on what looks like a chiffon dressing gown last seen being worn by one of his harem in Tripoli.

At least Gaddafi is true to his Bedouin principles, though: rather than stay in some opulent hotel he has decided to ship over a tent...

The Ecclestone Saga...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 11:23:00 +0000

...rumbles on.

As is usually the case whenever somebody says something even remotely controversial - no, scratch that, whenever somebody says something the bleaters don't like - the perpetrator often feels the need to respond to the browbeating by indulging in some sort of apology.

More often than not these follow-ups change nothing; for those who agreed in the first place it is little more than an elaboration, and for the detractors it is the perfect opportunity to suggest that an already deep hole is being dug further still. And so it is with Bernie Ecclestone in the Times today.

In a piece with the unmistakably unambiguous title I was a fool to talk about admiring Hitler, Ecclestone embarks on a mixture of explanation and apology - which sounds perfectly reasonable and measured to most of us but constitutes yet another wave of the red rag to those hell bent on plotting his destruction. It is quite clear what Ecclestone means when he writes that "it is what I said - but it was not what I meant to say" - but this means nothing to those whose very mission it is to twist things out of context, put their own spin on things and deliver the dogs dinner result of their journalistic endeavours to the masses.

The "Hitler" angle of course detracts from all of the very reasonable points that Ecclestone puts forward - namely, that politicians are so obsessed with compromise and making an impression that they continually miss the point of what they are there to do - serve the people. The trouble is that hard, principled politics always has its victims; political compromise on the other hand prides itself on its trying to please everyone. What the mainstream politicians fail to see however is their playing to the gallery actually helps nobody. Well, perhaps nobody but themselves. Ecclestone writes,

"They [politicians] are like doctors faced with patients suffering from a serious disease. Instead of telling them what is really wrong, they give them a course of tablets and send them away. I don’t blame the politicians; it’s the system we’ve created."

It's the same the whole world over. We'd let someone die a slow and miserable death rather than upset them. We'd hide the truth in case it might cause offence. We'd refuse to be straight with someone and put them in their place because they might run away blubbing to their mummy or some good-for-nothing journalist with nothing better to do.

This warped social mindset has done much to shape how we live our daily lives: we cannot say anything just in case it upsets somebody else, there is little or no sense of personal responsibility, criminals are treated with kid gloves, someone or something else is always to blame, and politicians are more concerned with dead pop stars than what they have been elected to do. Politics has become less about adhering to a principle than playing silly buggers in trying to look good in front of everyone who yaps in their general direction. It reminds me of one of Aesop's lesser-known fables:

In the old days, when men were allowed to have many wives, a middle-aged Man had one wife that was old and one that was young; each loved him very much, and desired to see him like herself. Now the Man's hair was turning grey, which the young Wife did not like, as it made him look too old for her husband. So every night she used to comb his hair and pick out the white ones. But the elder Wife saw her husband growing grey with great pleasure, for she did not like to be mistaken for his mother. So every morning she used to arrange his hair and pick out as many of the black ones as she could. The consequence was the Man soon found himself entirely bald.

Moral: Yield to all and you will soon have nothing to yield.

We can say something similar about the various positions adopted by the mainstream politicians in Britain today: we have to look good for the gays. We have to look good for the Muslims. We have to look good for the Jews. We have to look good for the British people. Result: you look good in front of nobody.

Of course, this is why there is little difference between the Labour and Conservative parties - bar the few so-called mavericks and loose cannons that still can be found dying of old age on the back benches. Actual policies are never discussed, and politics has become a silly game that can rightly be called Our spin-doctors and hairstylists are better than yours, We are more gay-friendly than you, or something equally inane.

Since when have we seen a politician take on a challenge and stick to his or her guns? And when things have gone to pot - as they occasionally do - have we seen anyone stand up and offer an apology that hasn't smacked of blatant insincerity?

I am sure that we would all rather see politicians that are bold and principled in their approach to the objectives, but humble and honest in the face of criticism and adversity. Maybe Bernie Ecclestone is right. Perhaps Max Mosley would make a good Prime Minister.

When a molehill is turned into a mountain...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 19:49:00 +0000

Well, it appears that there is no let-up in the press assault against Bernie Ecclestone following his interviewer where perhaps foolishly failed to condemn the likes of Adolf Hitler and Saddam Hussein in a manner acceptable to certain parties.

It's all rather ridiculous really - rather than read the comments for what they are, the career moaners are finding various ways of keeping this one running - even though the fuel ran out of the tank long ago. In an article in today's Times, Libby Purves writes:

"Cue general outrage at this blithe explanation of Hitler’s role in the Holocaust, accompanied by lesser outrage at the idea of Saddam as a strong, wise ruler rather than a murderous, hostage-taking, neighbour-invading chemical-weapon freak. Whatever you think of our Iraq war — I was against it - the idea of Saddam as a model leader is as breathtaking as casting Hitler as a patsy, too easily led..."

(Libby Purves, "Preening populism has put us off democracy", The Times, 6 July 2009)

First, I don't think Ecclestone's comments were in any way "blithe". If anything, they were well-considered. Further, at no point did Ecclestone suggest that Saddam was a "wise ruler"; he simply stated the clear-as-day fact that his leadership was best for that country. Just a bit of a difference there. One can argue that the point doesn't really need to be made, for any moron can see that Iraq circa 1990 was a far better place than the shambles it is today. But oh, no - you surely cannot say that... For you would be defending a dictator.

The truth is the truth is the truth. Everything else is political bluster and propaganda - including terms like "murderous, hostage-taking, neighbour-invading chemical-weapon freak". You have to wonder where these journalists get their lines from. And no, I am not talking about the lines these meedja types can be seen shoving up their snouts.

As for Hitler being a "patsy", Ecclestone didn't say that either. He merely suggested that he - for one reason or another - fell away from the path of responsible leadership. Now this may come as something of a revelation for some, but as I said on Saturday Adolf Hitler was far from being a "hands-on" leader. He was remote, aloof, and up to his neck in his own obsessions, which ranged from dog-walking and architecture through the evening viewings of King Kong and paint-drying monologues. The mundane act of government bored him rigid, and while he pored over scale models of Berlin the real work was being undertaken by the likes of Goebbels, Bormann and Himmler. You just need to read Hitler's own Table Talk or, better still, the excellent book by Frederic Spotts, Hitler and the Power of Aesthetics.

It's a shame that Libby Purves has to make it a point show that she is singing from the same hymnsheet as the haters, for the rest of her article is pretty much on the mark - particularly when she lambasts the mainstream political elite for arguing which of their two parties are the most gay-friendly (as if anybody really cares) or Gordon Brown's rather painful statement concerning the recently-departed Michael Jackson.

Of course, the mere mention of Hitler in any sense other than the comedic or pejorative brings vast numbers of people out in a rash, such as the Board of German Jews, who have called for a boycott of Formula 1. It's all rather silly.

Talking of things silly, there is nothing sillier than than the current obsession we have with "Health and Safety" - for that, read treating the public like children or imbeciles. Or both. In an excellent article appropriately titled "Health and safety fears are making Britain a safe place for extremely stupid people", London Mayor Boris Johnson rips into these nanny-state nincompoops with his usual rapier-like thrusts of wit.

Elf and Sayftee. Silly.

One bit in particular made me laugh:

"It was some years ago that my daughter and I first became aware of their achievements. We were exploring the magical cliff-top castle of Tintagel and we came across a sign on the edge of the cliff. It was expensively hand‑painted and about 1ft high. It said: "Edge of cliff". As a statement of the plonkingly obvious, it could have been bettered only if there had been another sign with a vertical arrow saying "Sky". We laughed so much we almost fell off."

Funny in itself, but more so given the fact that when Caroline and I were in France recently - walking around the fortress town of Montreuil-sur-Mer - we noted the wonderfully unfenced cliff edge. Families with well-behaved children were happily walking around the area, and one could see no real reason for spoiling the view.

Maybe we should remove all of the silly signs from cliff faces and dangerous places; the results would no doubt aid what could be happily described as natural selection. And rather than wasting time and energy protecting stupid people, we should be encouraging them to do what they do best.

Daily Mail Nazi Story of the Week... Or hack-job of the Week...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 15:41:00 +0000

The Daily Mail are at it again. Take a story, take some quotes, twist them all out of context and throw out a particularly lurid and attention-grabbing headline. They are simply beyond despicable. I am this time talking about their own curious take on the story concerning the interview of Formula One boss Bernie Ecclestone.

To really illustrate how disingenuous the hacks at the Daily Mail are, one should read their take on this story alongside the original interview, conducted with style and good grace by Alice Thompson and Rachel Sylvester of The Times.

Bernie Ecclestone. A Nazi? Don't make me laugh.

As far as I am concerned, the comments offered by Ecclestone - covering a myriad of different topics - are something of a breath of fresh air. It is about time somebody pointed out that democracy is not all that it is cracked up to be, particularly with regard to countries where the concept is completely alien. Of course, the Mail distorts these comments in order to project Ecclestone as a dyed-in-the-wool enemy of democracy, when all he does is expose the most obvious failures. What sane person could not agree with the following, for example?

"Politicians are too worried about elections. We did a terrible thing when we supported the idea of getting rid of Saddam Hussein, he was the only one who could control that country. It was the same [with the Taleban]. We move into countries and we have no idea of the culture. The Americans probably thought Bosnia was a town in Miami. There are people starving in Africa and we sit back and do nothing, but we get involved in things we should leave alone."

There is nothing objectionable here - unless you are one of those deluded politicians who happens to believe otherwise. In the six or so years since the invasion of Iraq, that country has been driven back into the stone age.

Iraq may have what is being touted as a democracy, but the reality of the situation is that the majority of the population are short of food and water, and Islamic fundamentalism - something that was firmly kept in check by Saddam Hussein's dictatorship - is rife. Under Saddam children could go to school without tjeir bus being bombed, women didn't have to wear restrictive clothing and could go to university and beyond, and the country was far more stable than the majority of its neighbours. Oh, and it kept the current bad boy Iran in check as well.

Now look at the place - crawling with fundamentalists, a bunch of crooks as leaders, and a population whose basic standard of living has plummeted. Oh, but they have a democracy, so all is good. Hip-hip hooray.

The fact is that democracy is not the fit-all, suit-all idea that many here in the West believe; while it is for the most part fine for us - well, for the most part - it is completely inappropriate in countries where the basic concepts of civic society required to maintain a democracy are nonexistent. That old adage involving saddles and cows comes to mind.

Countries are like human beings in macrocosm. They need to learn, to grow. They need to develop a sense of civic responsibility that will allow for the organic development of democracy. Countries are like children, and as much as you wouldn't allow a young child too much freedom at too young an age, the same should apply to countries. Foisting a so-called democracy on Iraq is akin to giving a ten year old licence to do whatever he or she wants; the result - chaos. The same could be said of much of sub-Saharan Africa where colonial regimes were ushered out, leaving what could have been something good in the hands of leaders that were for the most part politically immature.

Bernie Ecclestone is perfectly fair in his criticism of the British political establishment, the benefit culture, the NHS and the Labour Party; he is also perfectly honest in his appraisal of Adolf Hitler, the one name that always seems to get the folks at Daily Mail towers all agitated. It is just unbelievable that you cannot mention Hitler's name in any context without some politically correct or scandal-mongering clown getting into a massive flap over it. Ecclestone says:

"In the end he [Hitler] got lost so he wasn't a very good dictator. Either he knew what was going on and insisted, or he just went along with it - either way he wasn’t a dictator."

Far from being a silly statement, the above appears to suggest that Ecclestone actually knows his history and that, unlike the hacks at the Mail, he has actually read about the subject. It has been a debate among historians for decades over whether Hitler was the strong man of popular legend or a weak dictator whose whose success lay in having the right group of minions to do the job for him: I have for a long time believed that after Hitler rose to power he left things in the hands of the like likes of Bormann and Himmler. Hitler cared little for the everyday job of politics, preferring instead to get up late, tuck into some Sachertorte and take his dog for long afternoon walks in the mountains. Before regaling tired audiences with tedious after-dinner monologues.

In their bizarre and to be frank scurrilous attempt to take the "Hitler was good" angle and morph Bernie Ecclestone into some sort of racist crank, the Mail completely ignores the reference he makes to the Spanish F1 supporters who mocked Lewis Hamilton, or the fact that he took it upon himself to take the lead in condemning these imbeciles.

Bernie Ecclestone should sue the Mail for taking his comments out of context and give any money to charity. Meanwhile, those who have been quick to condemn should hang their heads in shame. This country is fast losing its grip on common sense, and needs more people like Ecclestone - and less bullshit from rags like the Daily Mail.

And talking about bullshit - the Springboks today were bloody awful. No further comments required.

Of wounded Lions and dead pop stars...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 12:39:00 +0000

I had kept quiet about the British Lions' tour of South Africa up to now, deciding instead just to enjoy the games - and what brilliant games they have been.

However the brouhaha about the infamous Schalk Burger 'gouging' incident and what seems to be a continual whine emanating from the Lions camp has become somewhat irritating. Everybody seems to have had something to say, and it's quickly becoming a case of "same old".

Yes, Burger had his hand on Luke Fitzgerald's face. But if you watch the actual footage it is more like a baby pawing a kitten as opposed to an outright attempt at gouging. Burger is a hard player - who at times steps beyond the boundaries of recklessness - but he's not the sort of player who would try and take out an opponent's eyes with malice aforethought. Knowing Burger better than most, coach Peter de Villiers obviously felt the need to step in and defend him - and clearly went way beyond his usual madcap pitter-patter in doing so.

Anyone who has more than a passing interest in South African rugby will know de Villiers to be something of a loose cannon, a motormouth, a man well versed in the ancient art of putting-foot-in-mouth. Like Eric Cantona - also famed for making speeches that were otherwise incomprehensible - de Villiers has for a long time proved to be a constant source of entertainment; he has over what is a short time built up a collection of memorable quotes, some of which have passed into legend. The most recent additions to this ever-growing canon will no doubt be quoted for years to come.

What is clear however was that de Villiers was not condoning foul play - this is merely an invention by the British media to take attention away from the fact that at two-nil the series is now lost. He simply stated - in his own inimitable way - that the rough stuff is part of the game, that sometimes it may bubble over, and when it does those who come off second best should take things on the chin rather than run off blubbing like bruised children in search of some fellow with a video camera.

While all of us who enjoy the game would like to see foul play taken out of the equation, there is a very fine line between enforcing the rules and relying on a citing committee whose task it is to follow up on every complaint. A case in point is Springbok lock Bakkies Botha being cited for his charge on Adam Jones which resulted in the Welshman's shoulder being dislocated: if Jones had walked away nothing would have been said - Bakkies was simply being his usual self in attempting to do what he does best in cleaning out the ruck. This was but one of many potentially suspect incidents during what was a hard-fought game: de Villiers was simply pointing out that if the authorities went down the route of inspecting every possible incident we might as well give up on rugby and take up ballet instead.

Any line of defence I may offer de Villiers doesn't extend to his coaching abilities, however: the Boks have won this series not because of de Villiers' coaching, but in spite of it. Had someone like Jake White or Heyneke Meyer been in charge of what is clearly the most talent-rich team in the world at the moment, this series would have been wrapped up long before the first ball had been kicked.

Probably the funniest thing to come out of this however is the whinge from Lions and Ireland centre Brian O'Driscoll, who should be the last man to complain about foul play given that he is something of an old hand at it. O'Driscoll is well known for his whingeing: who can forget his rather pitiful whining when he came off second-best against All Blacks Keven Mealamu and Tana Umaga? Or the moaning after Ireland's pitiful display at the World Cup in 2007? Much has been made of the fact that BO'D is on his way home injured and will be missing from the final Lions test: perhaps somebody should point out to him that he would have made the team had he not crocked himself attempting to illegally charge Danie Rossouw.

In discussing the hapless O'Driscoll one should ensure that a differentiation is made between "whine" and "wine"; for while he is clearly an expert in the former, if he tried to move into the business of the latter the product would taste of vinegar on account of the sour grapes.

The Lions had their chances to finish the Boks off on Saturday, but instead of standing proud and applauding their opponents, they are are effectively saying that they could have won the game if the officials had provided them with a one-man advantage. The truth is that if de Villiers had made the correct selections at the start - playing pocket battleship Heinrich Brüssow instead of Burger and last-minute hero Morné Steyn at fly-half instead of Ruan Pienaar (who should have been moved to fullback in place of the disappointing François Steyn) - things would never have been so close at the end.

In a way, Burger's citing and subsequent eight-week ban might prove to be a good thing. It will not only provide him with further recovery time but will also mean that Brüssow starts at Ellis Park. I think we'll see a clear win this time for the Boks - I am predicting a 33-12 win.

It what has to be the silliest story of the week - I am hoping that it is just a ruse - Michael Jackson's body is set to be embalmed. Or "plastinated", according to the clearly bonkers doctor Gunther von Hagens. What we we hear of next? His body being displayed in an elaborate mausoleum like that of Kim Il-Sung where yout have to pay a fee for the privilege of shuffling past it?

The media's obsession with the so-called "King of Pop" will no doubt drag on through the summer as we get to hear more gossip about his sexuality, private life and bizarre relationship with his pet chimpanzee; I just wish they would put it all on one channel so that the rest of us who wish to watch the news can do so without seeing Jackson's rubbery face pop up every five minutes accompanied by some witless soliloquy by one of the many hangers-on. Every time I see that gaunt image of what looks like a Japanese ghoul, I image that Jackson is going to crawl out of the television - those of you who have seen The Ring will know what I mean. Scary.

Concerning the media madness I think Charlie Brooker has things down pat:

"Across all the networks, a million talking heads shared their thoughts and feelings on his death. They had rung everyone in the universe and invited them on the show. On This Morning, a Coronation Street actor revealed he had once had tickets for a Michael Jackson concert but couldn't go because of the traffic. It was a sad day indeed. At 3pm, his death was still "BREAKING NEWS" according to Sky, which has to be some kind of record. Even 9/11 didn't "break" that long."

(Charlie Brooker, "Michael Jackson's death hit Glastonbury hard – and the news channels harder", The Guardian, 29th June 2009)

Well, things have gone beyond "breaking news": it is more like breaking wind.

Summer fun... (oh, and a Daily Mail Nazi story of the Week...)

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 10:14:00 +0000

What a day we had yesterday!

Summertime for us means "military shindigs", and things kicked off yesterday with a visit to the Lepe Country Park on the south coast and the D-Day commemorations which included a reenactment of the beach landings. Among those trying to stave off the beach assault - and dying a rather heroic death - was my friend Karl von Müller-Gebhardt, an aristocrat from somewhere near Baden-Baden who, like Hauptmann Stransky in Cross of Iron, was on a mission to win the Iron Cross as a humble SS-Schütze.

Apart from a few spots of rain, the weather was fantastic, and the reenactment took a somewhat humorous twist as the American landing craft had started to take in water and had to return to port - arriving to a mix of ironic cheers and friendly boos after the battle had ended. At least we could say they avoided another Omaha. Needless to say in fifty years time we'll see a movie about it, and how the Yanks arrived in the nick of time and saved the day...

The afternoon was spent chatting with Karl and his son Heinrich, a member of the HJ unit from West Hessen-Nassau - and after having help jump-start his car we headed off to nearby Lymington with another friend for evening dinner. Interesting conversation was had by all, with subjects ranging from French northerners (the Ch'ti) to tales of life at boarding school. My tale of the cider still blowing up and nighttime kitchen raids were but small fry in comparison to Karl's tale of how he and three colleagues managed to get a tutor's Mini up three flights of stairs and onto a theatre stage...

In a rather ironic piece of timing, the Daily Mail's Nazi Story of the Week yesterday covered another wartime commemoration weekend held in Worcestershire. In a bizarre but not wholly unexpected fit of politically correct pique, the powers that be at the Severn Valley Railway's show suddenly decided that those playing the role of the enemy were not wanted for fear of "causing offence" - of course, a case of the same old nonsense, and the creation of a scenario where the enemy is almost reduced to a fictitious bogeyman whom you can hear about but cannot see.

I wrote the following comment: I doubt whether it will see the light of day however...

Again, we have this politically correct take on history. We continue to hear the rhetorical drumbeat about this mysterious evil enemy that are rendered even more mysterious by this bizarre attempt to make them invisible. It's like North Korea and its treatment of all things American - the population knows nothing about America save what it hears from official mouthpieces, and as a result they have this rather warped idea of history.

The purpose of these reenactment weekends is that the public - especially young people - can learn about history. By blanking out any mention of the enemy, that history becomes little more than meaningless propaganda.

Ah, the Daily Mail. They never fail to disappoint. Or amuse.

The power of Photoshop...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 01:21:00 +0000

...aka "how much is true?"

Much has been said about the situation in Iran, and the supposedly "fixed" election results in favour of the controversial Mahmoud Ahmedinejad. However, our media are doing themselves - and all who care about objectivity and truth - a major disservice.

Usually one would point the finger for this sort of thing at the likes of Fox News, but this time it is our very own humble BBC that is behind what can only be described as a rather rubbish attempt at Photoshop phuckery-phoo propaganda. It is a well-established formula: take a suitable image, crop out the inconvenient bits, and rehash it as something completely different.

Sixty years ago genuine photographic expertise was required to produce these effects; these days any monkey can sit in front of a PC and turn a horse into a cow.

It is dangerous, and we should be vigilant. Next time, the next person photoshopped into a compromising situation could be you.

Enough!

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 10:54:00 +0000

Last night news had started to filter through that Michael Jackson has suffered a heart attack, and had died in hospital in LA. Jackson's friend and cutlery advisor Uri Geller had tried to transmit some life-restoring power from across the pond, but to no avail. Wacko Jacko passed away yesterday evening, and rumours are that post-autopsy he is going to be shipped to China to be recycled as plastic bags or those little erasers found on the end of pencils.

OK, jokes aside.

It is undoubtedly sad, but does this story merit the crazily extensive level of news coverage? He was just a singer, for pity's sake. Talented, flawed, whatever... But just a singer. It's not as though he saved lives or changed how we think about the world - though some have begged to differ with their prattling on about the work Jackson did in breaking down racial boundaries, which is somewhat bizarre given that he created music for a primarily white American audience and made it his life's mission to look like a Caucasian - albeit a very curious-looking one.

It doesn't matter if you're black or white. Or neither... Hmm.

In their desperate attempts to keep the story running on a continuous basis the media sought out anyone who might have had something to say - from Jackson's equally weird friend Uri Geller and loudmouthed rabble-rouser Al Sharpton through to some otherwise inconsequential fellow who once helped him write a speech for the Oxford Union.

Until recently all of the news had been focussed on events in Iran, but this non-story about the death of some hyped-up pop star has sent these more serious events into the background. My theory is that Wacko Jacko didn't die of a heart attack, but drugs that had been put in his macrobiotic vegetarian dinner by one of Ahmedinejad's agents as part of a plan to get Iran out of the headlines. And it looked like it worked a dream.

Probably the post pathetic thing I have read in the past few hours however is that that wonderful hangers on in the British political establishment have been quick to get their own tuppence word in. Yes, Messrs Cameron and McBroon.

Now Cameron you could at a push understand - he's in his mid-30s and probably listened to Michael Jackson when he was a teenager at school. But Brown? After he was roundly mocked for allegedly calling reality TV weirdo Susan Boyle to say now nice and wonderful she was you would have thought he'd shut up. Och, noo.

How the mighty have fallen...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 14:17:00 +0000

It wasn't that long ago when Texas billionaire and financier Sir Allen Stanford was seen pawing away at the wives and girlfriends of England cricketers during his big-money but ultimately Mickey Mouse Stanford Twenty20 Super Series tournament.

One can never go back to the days of cricket being associated with cucumber sandwiches, cream tea and the genteel witticisms of Brian Johnston, but even the biggest modernist would have been somewhat disturbed at the thought of this rather coarse and brash American trying to influence the global game by throwing silly amounts of money at everything.

The future's bright... Erm, maybe not.

Today "Sir Allen" (incidentally, the first American to ever receive a knighthood) was seen manacled and wearing the bright orange jumpsuit that has become associated with the inmates of Guantanamo Bay, charged with fraud offences so extensive that the amount being cited (an estimated $7 billion) could probably cover the collective GDP of all of sub-Saharan Africa, and possibly Latin America as well.

I just hope they throw the book at him. Next, Roman Abramovich and the rest of the so-called Russian oligarchs.

What a beardo...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 11:47:00 +0000

Or rather, silly story of the week.

Muslim Pc's boss 'accused him of looking like Osama Bin Laden'

I just don't know what this fellow, PC Tariq Dost, is complaining about. Look at him. He does look like Osama bin Laden. Put on the headgear and some combat fatigues, and he'd easily walk into any Osama-themed fancy dress party and win all of the best likeness awards.

Last seen in a cave in Afghanistan? Or not?

I had always thought that there was some sort of code in the police force which restricted the length of hair and beards; I am fairly certain that if I joined the police force and tried to get away with sporting something so obvious I wouldn't stand a chance. But of course, to tell this man to trim it down would be somehow "racist".

According to the article PC Dost is not a front-line officer, but one would assume that being a "uni" he would have patrolled the beat at some time in his career as a police officer. Forgetting the fact that his rather distinctive beard would have stood out and left him open to obvious ridicule, it would have also constituted something of a health and safety hazard.

Imagine this officer trying to arrest a criminal: it is a known fact that if you try to grab someone who does not wish to be grabbed, they will tend to do their own share of grabbing and pulling. The first thing anyone would see is PC Dost's beard, of course - for unlike female police officers with long hair who would be able to tie it up in a tight bun, it would be an inviting target for anyone who wanted to give it a good hard yank.

To think that taxpayers' money is being wasted on this nonsense. Oh, and I would also have asked PC Dost about his weird habit of tucking his trousers into his boots - he worked in recruitment, not SO19. Uniform code, anyone?

peterallenwatch: a bumper edition...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 12:07:00 +0000

Peter Allen, a journalist I am keeping a close eye on, appears to be the "man in France" for the British press. In addition to the lack of grasp of military history and overuse of Babelfish which is something of common feature of the modern hack, Allen also seems to have something of an obsession with French President Nicolas Sarkozy and his wife Carla Bruni. Indeed on the resource journalisted.com, which lists all articles by those writing for the UK press, Allen's summary states that he has written 'more about Sarkozy than anyone else' and 'a lot about Sarkozy' in the last month. In addition to informing the world about the threat of a second Normandy invasion by fans of panzerace.net, of course.

This week Allen has been particularly productive - it must be the weather or something. The stories from the continent range from the dramatic to the bizarre, and yes - there is among them a piece on Carla.

One of the articles covers a story that is sure to draw political lines across Europe - Sarkozy's statement on the Islamic headdress, the Burqa.

"The burqa is not a sign of religion, it is a sign of subservience. It will not be welcome on the territory of the French republic."

Bold words indeed.

I would for very obvious reasons choose not to trust Allen's translation of Sarkozy's actual statement, but it is fairly clear what the gist is. What is absolutely certain is that the French President has done a rare thing for an elected European leader - he has finally stood up and jabbed a finger back in the eye of what is a growing problem on this continent. Yes, some may argue that women walking around in costumes that make them look like Daleks may be a minor issue, but it is simply the thin end of the wedge.

One has to wonder what the clowns in Labour Party Towers think of all this - after all, Sarko has made a statement little different from that of Dutch politician and Geert Wilders, who was turned around at Heathrow back in February like some common criminal. What with his alleged snub of the Queen over the D-Day commemorations, Sarko is increasing his chances of being the next Euro politician to be shown the door by our otherwise very welcoming immigration officers.

Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminaaaaaaaaaate!

Sarkozy's statement was more than likely made in response to that made by US President Barack Obama last week about "the freedom to bare arms (or not, in the case of certain Islamic-fundi types) - which is all the more admirable as it would have been far easier to simply revert to type and crawl further up Obama's behind.

I am beginning to quite like Baruch Hussein - he seems to be at one with the people and has proven himself to be a master fly-swatter - but he would do well not to meddle in what are European social affairs. He may be more well-travelled and urbane that your average American politician, but he knows little of what actually goes on in the streets of many European cities; it would be the same as a European leader lecturing him on how to deal with poverty and crime in Compton and Watts.

Moving away from this and onto migration of another sort, Allen also wrote last week about a plan currently underway in France to prevent the threat of a dangerous breed of mosquitoes making their way across the channel - according to this article, there has been a mass chemical carpet-bombing of wide swathes of Northern France and Western Belgium.

Perhaps it hasn't struck those concerned - or Peter Allen - that these chemicals might actually be better employed on another sort of parasite, that of the two-legged variety. I am not talking about the massed armies of marauding illegal immigrants, but their army of crusty do-gooder protectors apparently making their way towards Calais to demand an end to border controls between France and Britain. Some people should get a job.

And then we have the Carla story.

Daily Mail Nazi Story of the Week... Part 348344

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 22:35:00 +0000

I'll spare you with the details on this because (a) it's a case of same old, same old - visit your local library instead; and (b) I am quickly typing this on the Mac because my laptop has decided to play blue screen silly buggers.

Anyhoo...

Wagner's great-granddaughter to probe composer's family links with Hitler and the Nazis

Okey-doke. I'd imagine the Mail's correspondent in Germany has been mucking around with Babelfish again. Katharina Wagner is rather fetching, though: she'd make a fantastic Brunnhilde.

Daily Mail Nazi Story of the Week... Part 348343

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 14:52:00 +0000

There I was, thinking that I might be let down and that a full seven days might go by without a Daily Mail Nazi Story of the Week... when Caroline sends me a link to this wonderful piece of journalistic discovery...

Has historian finally discovered real reason for Hitler's obsessive hatred of Jews?

I won't bother to quote any of this drivel here, but will only state that the claims are far from original, and yet another case of "same old". Dull. Boring. Repeated ad nauseum. Cooked to death, und so weiter. Oh, and yet another excuse for the Mail's oh-so-busy specialist Nazi history editor (lol) to get to use boringly familiar stock photograph of the gates at Birkenau. I guess he's earned his Friday afternoon drink, eh?

Oh well, at least it provides me with a macabre source of entertainment to brighten what has so far been a very busy day.

It's lucky that the US are not hosting the next World Cup...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 09:27:00 +0000

...as North Korea have done the impossible and qualified for the finals!

Having kept out everything Saudi Arabia could throw at them in temperatures topping 100 degrees Fahrenheit and thanks to a last-minute equaliser from their southern neighbours that helped keep out Iran - another member of the so-called "Axis of Evil" - lil' Kim's football team will be in South Africa next year.

It is the first time the DPRK have qualified since 1966, and for the first time both Koreas will be at the World Cup finals. Given that the US should qualify from their zone, I can't wait for the draw... The US versus the DPRK, anyone?

When in Rome... or Romania?

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 13:29:00 +0000

Just this morning I happened to read what would otherwise be a rather horrifying story about a spate of racist attacks in Northern Ireland which led to over a hundred Romanians fleeing their homes for the sanctuary of a local church.

I say "otherwise" because I know better - and that behind this pall of fetid smoke lies a fire that has been slowly burning across much of Europe for centuries.

This sort of thing is nothing new. For those of us who have some salient knowledge of the old Communist Europe - I do not include the majority of mainstream journalists in this number - these problems have been going on for years, and have already started to weave into the social fabric of a number of Western European countries.

First, it should be categorically stated that thuggery of this sort has no place on the streets of a civilised country such as ours. However, for any system to work properly we need to have right guidance from those in authority. Unfortunately, those to whom we should look to for this guidance have only succeeded in mismanaging the situation, to the point where once quiet streets have become centres for a new form of urban warfare and violence.

Right, that's the disclaimer done with.

The first thing that annoyed me about this and every other article that reported this incident is the naming of the victims of this thuggery as "Romanians" - specifically, in some cases, "hard-working Romanians". While journalists hungry for a story can easily be sucked into believing that this, those of us who have even a cursory knowledge of Eastern and Central Europe know this is not the case at all.

These people are Romanian by nationality only; in fact, they are as far removed from their countrymen as they are from a Norwegian or a Frenchman. They are not Romanians, but Romanies - in more common parlance, gypsies. Rather than being hard-working, these people have over the centuries acquired a well-earned reputation as beggars, thieves, pimps and vagabonds - the sort of ne'er-do-well that gives many a dingy railway station in Eastern Europe it's nasty veneer. It's not quite Hostel, but it comes pretty close.

How do I know? Because, unlike many of these so-called journalists, I have actually visited a number of these countries and witnessed these people in action at first hand. In the Czech Republic young girls were being "sold" in broad daylight by the womenfolk; the men meanwhile would be selling junk on the street by day, and donning their evening best to hassle foreign tourists outside popular pubs and clubs by night. In downtown Bucharest I witnessed one of them the metro with a live sheep: it was like a scene from Borat - which, incidentally, was filmed in the Romanian town of Glod which has a majority Romany population.

Gypsies: problem people or simply misunderstood?

The tourist guides - most of which are probably written in some Islington bedsit - condemn local populations for being "racist"; and to be fair when one first arrives and sees poor, bedraggled Romany folk shuffle their way across town with their life's possessions and get glared at in the street one can very easily reach the conclusion that the locals are a nasty bunch. This is the view one gets if one visits these countries for a short while, of course: actually living there creates a completely different impression.

I spent the best part of three months in the Czech city of Pilsen (Plzeň) in 1993, long before that country had any idea of joining the European Union. In fact, when I arrived the bloodless separation of Czechoslovakia had just taken place. It was a hot, sticky May afternoon, and after changing money at the local branch of the Komerční banka some of us decided to have a walk across the town. Making our way past the imposing Gothic cathedral, we stumbled upon an extraordinary sight: a gaggle of women and girls sitting under a bridge. Some of the younger girls were were clad in outfits that went way beyond standard warm weather requirements, and my first thought was that they were prostitutes. However the fact that elderly women and children were with them made me think that something else was afoot.

A few weeks into our stay - it was a glorious summer spent supping golden Pilsen beer and gorging on now much-loved Czech staples such as Beef Svíčková na Smetaně and Knedliky - we had got to know a number of locals, from fellow students at the University of West Bohemia through to the lecturers. One of the lecturers was an animated, urbane chap with a very pro-Western outlook: someone who summed up all that was good about post-Cold War Eastern Europe. A small group of us went to lunch on a number of occasions with him, and we were often treated to stories of the dark old days of Communism.

On one occasion, one of our number stepped up and asked about the Romanies, and how they fitted into Czech society - at which Dr Winter's smiling face was transformed into a dark scowl. He went on to provide us with a number of tales about the local gypsy population, from their role as local criminals and gangsters to how they destroyed flats that had been provided for them by ripping out and selling all of the fixtures and fittings. One of the most bizarre stories was how a Romany family had turned a tenth floor apartment into a stable - literally, for the police had to call in a vet to put down a fully-grown mare.

A number of the Czech students we met - friendly, open, pro-Western - shared this attitude, and it began to dawn on me that perhaps the problem was not the locals being a bunch of racists, but the gypsies themselves. One of the students finally explained the riddle of the gypsies under the bridge: it was in fact a multi-faceted operation, with the older women running the show and doing a spot of begging, the younger ones selling themselves, and the children and babies being used as little more than accessories to garner the sympathy of foolish Western tourists, particularly well-heeled visitors from Germany and Austria. One young student nurse told me how she had on occasions tried to help the Romany women and girls, only to find herself hitting her head against a brick wall.

This voyage of discovery in the Czech Republic opened my eyes to the activities of a people that were dispersed over much of Central and Eastern Europe, and much of what I saw was the same. The aggressive beggars in Budapest, poor enough to beg but well-off enough to purchase faux-designer outfits; the money-changers and other assorted con-artists in Sofia; the ever-so-persistent buskers in Bratislava; the plain clothes "police officers" in Bucharest. Oh, and the marching mauvais odeur in Plovdiv.

Even growing another set of eyes at the back of my head was not enough. When I was at Budapest main station as part of a three-man rail journey across the Balkans to Istanbul, one of us succeeded in taking our eyes away from one of the bags, only to see the empty floor where it had been seconds before. The bag had contained the cameras, and when we went to buy a cheap replacement in Sofia the friendly man at the shop warned us to keep it permanently attached to us as many of the cikan kids were very nimble-fingered. Good advice, but alas just a little too late.

Quite simply, when I was in Eastern Europe all those years ago I would never have believed I would one day see these same problems over here: the fact is that the vast majority of those who have made their way to these shores from the former Iron Curtain countries are hard-working, decent and honest, but there is a small and negatively potent minority that will always be trouble makers. It is news to us here in the UK, but this sort of thing has been going on in both Greece and Italy for years. In a number of Italian towns and cities there has been a steep rise in crime - from muggings, people trafficking and prostitution through rape and even murder (BBC News, Der Spiegel).

The statistics are shocking, and cannot be simply dismissed:

According to Rome's Mayor Walter Veltroni, "In the first seven months of the year [2007], Romanians made up 75 percent of those who raped, stole and killed. We clearly have a specific problem." The attacks have shocked the city, where street violence has long been unusual. According to the Italian news agency ANSA, Romanians committed 76 murders across Italy between January 2006 and June 2007 and were also responsible for half of the recorded rapes in the country for that period. They also topped the statistics for people trafficking and forced prostitution.

(Source: Der Spiegel)

The Italian government has constantly sailed close to the wind in its relationship with Romania as a result. "Romanian" immigrants are now the largest foreign immigrant community in Italy - a staggering statistic given that it has been less than twenty years since the fall of the Iron Curtain; the outskirts of Rome are now littered with shanty towns - for that, read ghettos - populated by Romanies who do precious little else but make their way into the busy city to commit crime. To its credit, the Romanian government - which unlike everyone else is able to distinguish between its law-abiding citizens and its criminals - has been fiercely critical of the kid-glove approach adopted by the Italians which has allowed for the creation of ghettos - or "bases for crime" in the words of Romanian Prime Minister Calin Popescu.

Which brings us back to the Belfast story.

What has happened here is indeed unfortunate, but it could have been easily avoided. We could have turned these people away at the gates rather than allow them to head en masse to a chosen location and set up what can only be described as a ghetto. What has happened in Belfast is clearly a shock for many, but it should not be too much of a surprise. After all, we have already seen what has happened in Italy, and what happens when local populations allow themselves and what might be very genuine feelings of goodwill to be taken advantage of by a group of newcomers, many of whom have no concept of civic society or morality.

Violence begets violence, and if the authorities continue to turn a blind eye to these problems and mask them with politically correct platitudes it can and will only get worse. We'd not only have gypsies running riot on the streets, but crazy vigilantes as well. In short, we'd have a situation perfectly ripe for the likes of the BNP - an empty vessel into which they can pour their own brand of poison.

The rise and fall of Billy Brit

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 22:00:00 +0000

Some of you may have heard about Billy Brit, most of you have probably not. For the majority of the British public, their first encounter with this wonderfully twee yet disturbing character would have been on the popular late-evening BBC television show Have I Got News For You, where he made his debut national television appearance.

So, who is Billy Brit? A comedian? A reality TV "star"? Gordon Brown's campaign manager? Nope. Billy Brit is a rather odd-looking puppet, the former star of the quickly put together website of the youth wing of the British National Party, or YBNP. I say "former" star - more on that in a bit.

Billy Brit: needs a haircut, methinks.

Following the puppet's appearance on HIGNFY the BNP were quick to play to the gallery, stating how "proud" they were that their lad Billy had made an appearance on the show, a staple for politics-watchers on both the left and right.

Unfortunately for the BNP, this opportunistic attempt to generate publicity only served to open them up to yet further ridicule. The voice of Billy was clearly that of a grown man putting on a curious falsetto voice, the result of which sounded like a castrated sheep: wonderfully toe-curling, Billy's style and delivery reminded one of those cheaply-made children's programmes from the 1970s as he wittered on about the heroic Boudicca taking on the horrible Romans.

The original "Billy Brit" video - now removed from the official site. Scarily hilarious.

What was even funnier however was that the puppet marketed as "Billy Brit" was not even a British original, but a bog-standard puppet ordered from an online store. Rather than being born and raised in Burnley or Dagenham, it is more likely that Billy was probably made in some sweatshop somewhere south of Beijing, which would have meant that the poor fellow was promoting a party who if they really studied his origins would probably have been less than welcoming.

It goes to show what a laugh these guys really are, and that the best way to deal with them is not by throwing around witless slurs or eggs, but by allowing them to simply try and get on with things and watch with a grin as the wheels start falling off.

Of course when poor old Billy's (or is that Hu Flung Dung's?) origins were exposed, the BNP's enemies were quick to make capital out of it. They got their orders in for the "Billy" puppet, and created some marvellous spoofs of the original propaganda skits that were posted on YouTube and linked from the YBNP website.

Now it is very unlikely that I share many of the political convictions who those who took the time to create the spoofed "Billy Brit" videos, but they are funny all the same. The best is one featuring the infamous Euro election campaign leaflet - yep, the leaflet with the made up quotes and pictures of American actors and models rebadged as "British workers". lol.

Who needs nasty "Nazi" slurs and eggs when you've got this?

This potential PR disaster led the fellows with their hands up Billy's behind to conclude that it was all not such a good idea after all, resulting in their pulling all of their YouTube videos. Which is a shame, for as well as being historically inaccurate they are also rather funny, though in a macabre sense. Billy has no doubt been sacked, left to fend for himself with his fellow countrymen.

Let's just hope he hasn't been forced into taking up a job picking cockles.

Will the last one out please turn off the lights?

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 10:42:00 +0000

Yet more proof that this country is going bonkers:

Jewish couple sue neighbours for 'imprisoning' them with automatic hallway light (Daily Mail, 16 June 2009)

A Jewish couple are suing their neighbours in a block of flats, saying an automatic security light is keeping them prisoner in their home because it forces them to break their Sabbath rules. [...] They say their human rights are being breached and are now suing the flats' management company - their neighbours - for failing to accommodate their religion.

Ah, "human rights", "accommodating their religion"... Those old chestnuts. And then the best part:

The other 35 owners of the seaside flats are liable to pay court costs if the claim is successful.

I cannot understand why these people are kicking up such a stink - surely the fact that they are not physically switching the light on or off means that they can employ just a little bit of common sense and get along with their neighbours? From what I can tell this building is shared by a range of different people from different backgrounds - and so why should what is a sensible way of saving energy be shelved simply because a couple of religious zealots are getting into a not-so-merry flap about it?

If course, if one forgets simple compromise and common sense there are three alternatives:

the lights are permanently left on using the override switch this litigious couple were wiling to pay for. Naturally, they would have to foot the bill for any additional electricity that may be consumed.
the lights are permanently left off, and a disclaimer written so that this couple cannot sue if one or both of them happen to fall down a flight of stairs and break their necks. Of course, if the lights are off and any of the other residents injure themselves when attempting to find the light switch in the dark, the Orthodox Jews would be liable.
they leave and go to a building solely occupied by Orthodox Jews who can make up their own rules as they wish.

It's like Britain in microcosm, really: one small group of people make their way to a place that has been running along nicely for years, only to then start bleating loudly and make ridiculous demands - thus putting others' noses out of joint.

A case of stupid people wanting to have their matzo and eat it.

It means nothing to me...

noreply@blogger.com (Le grand méchant loup) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 17:47:00 +0000

Oh, Vienna...

I recently came across this feature on the ten best and worst cities in the world to live in, and found the results interesting.

Seven out of ten of these cities are in Europe, and all of these European cities are in German-speaking countries. Given that I have often banged on about how people in Mitteleuropa have a far greater sense of civic responsibility than elsewhere - in that the majority of those living there actually care about the place where they live - I am not overly surprised by these results. That said, I would have had Munich ahead of Vienna on account of the latter's rather surly restaurant waiters and the fact that you cannot buy any places that sell Weisswurst.

The best city to live in: Vienna.

I have been to many places around Germany and Austria, and have always been impressed by how wonderfully manicured even the smallest village is. You can go to places like Vienna, Munich, Frankfurt or Düsseldorf and literally eat your dinner from the wonderfully clean pavements: compare this with many places in London, which look like litter-strewn dumps.

Of course, there will be some who will look at all of this and conclude that all of these clean, well-ordered countries are hiding something dark - and that a bit of litter here and graffiti there is some sort of positive cultural indicator. After all, a city that is actually safe, pleasant to live in and free of pollution, chaos and urban decay is not going to quality as "vibrant" - to use an oft-abused word from the new meedja dictionary of popular buzzwords.

"Vibrant" is a word you can clearly apply to the worst-rated city, Baghdad. After all, there is something different going on every day - it clearly qualifies as a "happening" city. All you need is a couple of decent nightclubs and the Islington Ivory Towers set will be happy to send their kids there on their gap years. In fact, this might not be a bad idea - if Baghdad wants anybody to work for their tourist board to draw in the "right" sort of tourist, I'd be more than happy to help.

I am not surprised to see three cities in the Congo though - the place has always been the classic holiday destination for the suicidal.