Monday, 9 November 2009

I don't believe it

We all used to laugh when Victor Meldrew, the fictional arch curmudgeon, that misanthropes misanthrope, vouchsafed his famous catchphrase; "I don't believe it!" Now having read the news over the past few days I can only stand aghast and echo that sentiment to the metaphorical rafters.

My swear gland has finally been bestirred from it's long somnolence by this piece of news; Every e-mail, message, phone call, web site visit or other such communication passing through UK jurisdiction is going to be logged and held on a database. Which every local and national government flunky including Postman Pat's sodding cat can view without benefit of search warrant. Well at least if this article in the UK's Daily Telegraph is to be believed. Not that it'll stop any real terrorists. They'll just carry on using Phone cards, free Wi-Fi and offshore web resources which said databases will be as much good tracking as next doors flaming hamster. On the other hand, you complain over the phone to your mum that you're having trouble with one of your kids (Who doesn't?) and Child Services might just be the ones kicking down your door. HMRC might come meandering through your front hallway without a bye, leave or thank you if you go looking at one too many offshore bank accounts via the web. You will find yourself under investigation by the Police if your kids go surfing the web for ringtones and end up accessing a seriously sick hardcore porn site as our youngest once did. You have been warned.

It is rare for me to lapse into the pejorative but f*cking hell. Which utter w*nkst*in of a c*t*mite thought that was a jolly good wheeze eh? Which complete and utter onanistic waste of semen allowed that to come to pass? I would describe the implementors of such a policy as of lower worth than a putrid vaginal discharge, but that would be to decry perfectly honest, hard working bacteria. The originators of such a poorly thought through scheme make the most mean spirited Traffic Warden (And I could name a few real copper bottomed c*nts - I used to work with the b*st*rds) look like the reincarnation of St f*cking Francis of s*dding Assisi they are that low. The most drug addled adrenalin fuelled d*ckw*t with a lobotomy has more competence and common sense. So why the f*cking s*dding *rs*h*ling hades are powers of this magnitude being handed to those who couldn't run a f*cking bath properly?

The only wonder is that there isn't widespread protest from both left and right of the political spectrum. Why aren't British MP's being dragged out of their houses and stuck in the pillory for failing to preserve freedom of speech?

Millions of people from my Mother and Father's generation are laid out in f*cking rows under the ground because they believed in fighting oppression. Hundreds of thousands from Britain alone never lived past twenty bloody f*cking five because they believed that they had to defend their land. Almost half a bloody million Britons in five years, and all their sacrifice has been pissed up the wall by a bunch of greedy traitors and sodomites unfit to lick dogsh*t off the streets.You can tell I'm annoyed, can't you?

Ah b*gger it. I wash my hands of the place. There's no point; no f*cker in Britain cares enough any more. Democracy in the UK has failed because not enough people cared to do anything about it. Only a few were willing to even protest.

Me? Over the past thirty years I wrote to my MP about the various threats to liberty such as latterly the Civil Contingencies act and RIPA, signed petitions, attended protests (Yes I have), joined pro freedom organisations, lobbied, and was roundly ignored and mocked for my troubles. Ha ha, wasting your time Bill. Never happen. You're talking b*ll*cks. Stupid man. Well, girls. Quoth Uncle Bill in low and dangerous tones; you're still there, and I'm over here in Canada, free to walk my way until doomsday if it so please me. How does it feel to be property, huh?

Well as the country that founded the Anglosphere sinks slowly into the morass of the EU, all I can say is goodbye. It's a shame, but there you go. All good things as they say, must come to an end; and now the end for Britain is here. Straws, Camels backs, all that jazz. Do what you're told peon and it's back to the good old days of medieval feudality when you were mobile property, to be disposed of at the notion and whim of your social superiors.

All on the back of the excuse of terrorism. Well boys, we all know who the real terrorists are don't we?

What the hell. I console myself thus; at least the sodomites who sold you down the river won't ever breed. F*ck it, I'm going hunting. Comment if you like; I no longer care.

This rant is at an end.

*The use of self censoring asterisks throughout this post is at the request of Mrs S, who thought that mere swearing simply lowered the tone of the whole blog. It's probably funnier this way, or would be if the subject matter wasn't such a cause for concern. Hey, the UK's your country, or at least it used to be.
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