You know what? I'm not done yet. Thanks Anna for this, from Monbiot. I love you, Monbiot, I really do; please put into better words then I can why we can we can clash with police and use direct action and these people can't, for reasons other then that their cause is really stupid. Something about the level of violence in the situation, about how action not only must, but can be taken in the fight against capitalism because the system, as it is, is violent, while the democratic process of enforcing a common and decent morality and righting old, old wrongs isn't, by its nature, violent in its actions against hunters, and as such they're not fucking permitted to fucking let of firecrackers in people's faces! Fuck you, shitheads! Fucking firecrackers?! What are you, nine year old bad scamps?? Grow up! To somehow manage to turn the police, the police against yr cause, you really fucked up. Did you, like, shit yr brain or something?

Also, thank you Toynbee for taking a line with the word "treason" in it.

Why do I care about this all so much? Why did I shout at my radio at a woman who, not only claimed that hunting was the only way to get rid of foxes (OK, they're a pest. Leave out poisoned chicken carcases, or don't run at them really really loudly so the run away. Maybe you'd actually get some, that way... Aren't you all in the army or something? Fucking eight-year-olds on Ritalin with a copy of Metal Gear Sold would be better at this shit then you), but used "distator" like an adjective (or adverbial?) as in "Tony Blair's dictator regime." The English language hates you, madame. Well the fuck done.

I think I just feel violated. Seriously. We should scrap the monarchy for being compromised. We should have scrapped them anyway, but now we have a really good excuse. Having them in there's up with letting perjuring Lord Archer sit in the highest court in the land in the retardo stakes.

And how is this Blair's Poll Tax riot? The Poll Tax riots were against a stupid policy that had no grounding in public opinion. THE ANTI-WAR MARCHES WERE AGAINST A STUPID POLICY THAT HAD NO GROUNDING IN PUBLIC OPINION. Are you getting this? Do you hear me? Are you going away and fucking yrselves now? He isn't going to lose on this, he hasn't underestimated the forces of conservatism, he's not in for it now over this. The forces of conservatism are staffed by shifty, twatish wankers who care about only themselves and, in such a situation, will vote on stuff like who gives them more money. As no one really works in hunting, and those who did don't vote Labour, this whole thing means shit at the polls.

How have you all not gagged on yr bile yet? And really, how have I not either?

_chris! // 20:17


You know what (you're gonna shit yr colon in shock at this... )? I really hate Otis Ferry.

Would it be OK, Otis Ferry, if I were to break into yr house, violate yr notions of private property and privacy, hit some old people and jump around shouting about death to boring music and capitalist social organising of society? Because I could, quite fucking legitimately, declare that you don't understand what I am doing there, and that drastic times, which these are, call for drastic measures. You wouldn't like that? You want me to stay out of yr house? THEN STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY DEMOCRACY, YOU LITTLE SHIT!

I hate that fucking Otis has pushed me to thinking about this. That the little prick has somehow managed to force me to know that Bryan Ferry's son rents a four-bed house in a village that begins with "S" (I still don't really care enough to actually know where), and that to make my point wholly legitimate, I'd have to actually do this in his mother's house, which is in London, and owned.

Robin Cooke was wrong this morning, when he asked, leadingly, if we'd really feel better about Parliament and its security if Otis Ferry had been shot. You know what? I would feel better if the little crap had been shot. Maybe in the kneecap, so he couldn't walk anymore. Or the arm. The wanking arm. I hate him for making me think like this.

And I really hate him for the bit in the Daily Express' profile of him today where it said that he became infatuated with the wonders of nature. Yow know, the wonders of how nature doesn't like it when you pull its fucking spine out, and how wonderful nature is, smeared over his face.

Fucking you, Otis Ferry. Fuck you very much.

_chris! // 19:45



Dear Mr Portillo,
With my most sincere best wishes, here is a suggestion for what you could do to further boost your media career when you leave politics at the end of this parliament.

You could fucking never show yr face again, and hide inside one of the Punch & Judy shacks, and operate a stick with a big piece of crap on the top of it, and whenever you talk, you could make the stick dance, with crap on the top of it. And you could be fucking Crap On A Stick guy, and at last Andrew Neil would have found his intellectual equal and he could go ‘So, lesbians are just making it harder on themselves by refusing to fuck their bosses to get ahead in their jobs? What the fuck’s their problem?! It’s market forces “people”!!’ and you could do the crap on a stick dance, and then Andrew Neil can declare that, well, there we have it.

I can’t believe I ever let you off that bit where you whined about how Spain had betrayed you (yes, you! Personally! You’re that important!) by voting, awfully, according to principles rather then for the party that would give them lower taxes. I fell faintly disgusted with myself that I haven’t even managed to angry about anything since I heard you going on, on Broadcasting House about how Blair doesn’t have enough power and Brown has too much, after spending years listen to you complain that he has too much power and we need a return to cabinet government. And all this from a man who seems to believe that dicking around after yr own career is actually a great fucking way for government to behave, and will produce the best results for the country.

I don’t even know why I’m angry; it’s not like I even except you to have a consistent point of view, as you’ve never shown any signs of morals, principles, or even fucking basic thought. My first time being truly, shit-maddeningly angry since Norman Tebbit made me lie on my bed shaking with rage and impotency as he claimed that Poles, me had a right to be in this country because he knew some Poles who fought in the war. As if I,
Nina, Deva, had somehow only become worthy citizens of England by virtue of the actions of our grandparents. The gross, sickening inability of the man to understand race, identity, basic human decency... I couldn’t take it then; I can barely take it now.

And my first time back, as it were, and I’m wasting it on a piece of shit like Portillo. Twirl yr fucking stick, shithead, and sing yr little song about bring crap, on a stick. Leave politics, host shows on BBC2, write columns about yr daily life and pretend you smoked cock in college, but didn’t inhale. Fill up my fucking life with an endless stream of images of yr smug little face talking about crap it doesn’t understand, can’t understand, can’t even imagine what understanding would feel. I’m ready for yr sick, horrible apathy, because now I can think fucking Crap On A Stick, which will at least make me giggle the next time I can feel a little bit more of my faith in people getting butt-raped.

_chris! // 20:50


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