Une autre victoire pour le grande fromage, part deux.

The Daily Record, bereft of power in Holyrood and Westminster have at last made up their mind and finally printed their 'correction' on the Megrahi cropped photograph story on the bottom left hand corner of page 2 in their Saturday May 22nd edition


It would be fair to say that the verité and The Daily Record's excuse are a few miles distant from each other. Nevertheless I'm claiming it as a victory against those talented liars in charge of the Scottish press who pump the public with lurid, unchecked, staggering amounts of fiction posing as fact.


As the lovely people at the Press Complaints Commission have only just told me about this 'correction', I hastened to these internets in search of the aforementioned article, naturally none was there. 


I did however grab the link from http://www.pressdisplay.com so dear viewer, in order to see their fulsome apology for cropping an image of a cancer victim to make it appear that he was ready to take up cage fighting, please click the above link. If you can't be bothered, the weasel worded text of their 'correction' is below.


ON Nov 19, 2009, we published a report about the health of the “ Lockerbie Bomber ,” headlined “Megrahi’s doing fine.” It was accompanied by an image of al-Megrahi that was said to have been taken “yesterday”. We would like to make it clear to readers that the photograph was, in fact taken in August 2009.


When I manage to get myself a hard copy and photograph I shall post it here.


My thanks go to the fantastic Becky at the PCC who  has apologised for the length of time it took for the Daily Record to publish this correction..


One can only speculate that in normal countries this woeful disregard for the truth is frowned upon, here our betters appear to shrug their shoulders, Hien.

Looks Tory, smells Tory, what lies beneath?

Look at the passion in that feller's face...

Sooo according to this mornings Sunday Times, our newly friendly hugs and kisses Tory Party are considering a re-brand of their vile loathsome former selves, in order to appeal to those who think Scottish Tories are really quite fluffy and cuddlesome. Given the baggage of Thatcher, mass unemployment, poll tax, a pre-election convenient war..sorry that should read 'conflict', social deprivation etcetera I imagine most activists will be panting like a priest at a school pantomime. How do they get this supposed abandoning of the London Party over on the doorstep, without being seen as advocating Independence?

So where do you stand on the minimum booze price now Ms Goldie?


I suppose now that they've finally decided that after being humped at the ballot box for the third time, in which they've been represented by a porcine former furniture salesman and a chap apparently known to his intimates as Fluffy, that the end of the road has been well and truly met.

Holding his breath between elections...


All that remains is for them to find a name that fits in with small 'C' conservatism and a slavish devotion to all that emanates from London that they can slap a bit of tartan on. I'm thinking the Tartan Twunts. All other suggestions welcomed.

Tartan Twunts on a piss up.


However, one question remains. In the battle for supremacy in this axis of couthyness who will emerge victorious, Annabel Goldie, the ma Broon of her generation, David Mundell, the man who thinks the Holyrood Tories are clueless or the parties Scottish Chairman, the former Washington based spook Andrew Fulton who was forced to stand down after his MI6 connections were revealed when he was the deputy director of the Lockerbie Trial Briefing Unit?

In order to pull the wool over the Scottish electorates eyes successfully, might I suggest that the Scottish Conservatives do something more than changing your name and plopping on a 'see you Jimmy' ginger bunnet on one of your ugly young activists.

Perhaps dropping plans for the farcical Calman Commission and sensibly, like many of the more pleasant Tories of my acquaint (yes there are some) who quietly agree that full fiscal autonomy is the way to wean Scotland from the public purse teat, might be a more sensible approach to the new politics...




However, at the end of the cliché I would warrant this, if you want to know what kind of Scot your more rabid Tory is, simply have a keek under his kilt. You wont be surprised.

Are Labour too pished to comprehend?

News that supermarket behemoth Tesco, are minded to think minimum pricing for alcohol is a good idea, brings a problem. Where do the unionist booze loving supporters in the Scottish Parliament go now? Every attempt to debate this issue has led to Labour politicians weeping into their glasses at the loss of the right to get pure mad mental pished on buckie, 'it's a human right ya dobber', seems to be their rebuttal to any attempt at informed discourse.

The sublimely named, Lucy Neville-Rolfe, Tesco's director for corporate affairs, has an interesting tack on the booze and binge culture, she blames the UK government. She says in the absence of government action, poor old Tescocks have to compete on price.

"As a result there is lots of cheap alcohol, so we thought let's ask the government to look at should there be a minimum price for alcohol, or should there be a ban on low-cost selling.

"Could it be justified because it will deal with the problem at the lower end?"

Now colour me stupified, but does that not sound a million miles closer to what the SNP have been saying in Government? Especially when compared to the stupidity of my local Labour politicians Elaine 'tiny tears' Murray and the diminutive Russell Brown, who envisage booze buses on the Whitesands of Dumfries, all set to invade the pile-it-high-sell-it-cheap booze warehouses destined to be found over the border in Carlisle?

The British Medical Association, police throughout the UK, and the Westminster Health Committee back the idea of minimum alcohol pricing. Now that Tesco have jumped into bed with the same approach, where exactly does this leave Gray, Goldie and Scott?

What a difference a day makes.

Encouraging news from Dungavel that the children of immigrants are no longer to be held there.

Damian Green, above without the blurry face, was the chappy at the centre of the police raid at Westminster in November 2008 for 'aiding and abetting misconduct in public office'. He's now the new Tory-LibDem Immigration Minister. With a stroke of his mighty Ministerial pen he has managed to do what Jim Murphy failed to achieve despite giving his assurances in October 2008 that no child would be held in Dungavel in the future.

You have to ponder over why Mr Murphy never managed to fulfil his pledge, what hurdles did he encounter, that made the decision to stop weans with Glasgow accents being bundled into vans in the middle of the night and dumped in a former prison in the Scottish countryside? Was it an insurmountable problem of cost? How about a lack of alternative facilities? Maybe it was a cheap sound bite in fitting with his whole persona of telling people what they want to hear but never really finishing the task? Hey maybe I'm wrong and this pledge was sitting at the top his to-do list and only kiboshed by the small blip of a general election....Maybe.


The problem now is that these children will instead be taken to Yarl's Wood Detention Centre which is supposedly better equipped for the children of 'failed' immigrants. Although better on the surface, this is really a cosmetic change and does nothing to confront the basic problem that whereas south of the Border, the three main parties appear to revel in playing the anti-immigration-we're-full-up-go-elsewhere card. Yet in Scotland faced with another period of depopulation we're rather keen on welcoming new faces who want to work and contribute to life here.


So history will record that the last baby ever detained at Dungavel was 11 month old Wania Shebaz, here she is with her 25 year old mum Sehar.

What terrible crime did the evil immigrant commit, that caused the UK Border Police to frog march her in to the van and on to Dungavel?


Well, she was guilty of being a Pakistani girl forced into an arranged marriage to a man she barely knew, whom she claims, drank excessively, was violent and predictably sexually abusive. Shebaz has been living in the UK for 3 years. In December last year after hubby threatened to kill her, she escaped the family home in Blackburn and sought refuge in Glasgow. She was placed in homeless accommodation and helped to apply for asylum. Hubby followed her and again she had to be moved.

She and her baby daughter were removed from Dungavel at midnight and stuck in a van marked destination Yarls Wood. It's a nine hour drive, she should be arriving fairly soon. On Saturday morning she and Wania will be driven to the airport and put on a plane back to Pakistan and the problem will no longer be ours, hands wiped, another human tragedy bundled out of sight and sound. 

Wania will celebrate her first birthday in Pakistan, who knows what future her and her mum face. As is tradition in Pakistan, her husband's family will demand the baby, her own family have lost face and will not support her. What harm did she do?

Return of the Young Lochinvar

Like a latter day Young Lochinvar, the new prime minister was true to his word and rode North on a mission of  R-E-S-P-E-C-T accompanied by Harry Potter and his tame house elf Dobby Munnell. He didn't have the fair Ellen in mind for conquest, no he had his eyes on a somewhat heftier blushing bride...

How different this must have felt for the Tartan Overlord compared to Gordon Brown's infamous reticence to comment on the election of the SNP Government in 2007. The whole 'he doesn't write, he doesn't call' scenario came to a head when wee Glen Campbell nearly had to throw himself under the wheels of the Ministerial jag in order to get a pained comment from the MP for Kirkcaldy and Cowdenbeath. Teeth and pulling were brought to mind as the then PM squeezed out each reluctant vowel and consonant like a constipated poundstretcher robot. His imperial Eckness was well and truly rebuffed. It took our own particular brand of crap Men and Motorist terrorists to finally bring them together for a hot session in the COBRA room, even that ended with premature congratulations...


So did Dave's attempt to pitch wood in blushing Eck's direction succeed? He didn't bring chocolates, wine or even the £180 million fossil fuel levy. What he did bring was a declared resolve to treat Scotland's government in an entirely different manner to his predecessor. Proof and pudding spring to mind. 

I'll say this, it took balls to walk in there and face a renowned slippery operator par excellence. For that, signing up to roll back Labour's profound erosion of civil liberties and marginalising Iain Gray even further than was thought humanly possible,  I praise him, do I trust him? Not a chuffing chance.

O young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword he weapons had none,
He rode all unarm'd, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.




He staid not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall,
Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers and all:
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,)
"O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"

"I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied; --
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide --
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar."

The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up,
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, --
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a gailiard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;
And the bride-maidens whisper'd, "'twere better by far
To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near;
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran:
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

Sir Walter Scott

A lingering smell.

News that former unelected Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, is set to continue as a backbench MP, is bound to cause some disquiet among the Labour opposition front bench.

It's all too easy to envisage that every time hackles are raised and emotions fraught, that when questions on the economy, Afghanistan, expenses etcetera are brought up in debate, the Tories and their new bestest friends the Lib Dems need only make out like Donald Sutherland and point at the honourable member for Kircaldy, in a fashion not too dissimilar to this:

No doubt, at first, his colleagues will galvanise themselves and rally to his defence, whoever the new leader of the Labour Party is, will reel off the highlights of 13 years of Labour control...but eventually this will get old. Over a period of time, those wishing to bask in the somewhat tarnished reflection of Brown will gradually slip lower down the food chain. Eventually, he will be lucky to have the company of the likes of Cathy Jamieson or Margaret Curran sitting within arms length. 

Then one day, political anoraks will tune in to watch Scottish Questions with Harry Potter, and there amongst those despairing camera shots along the sparsely populated opposition benches, the cameras will pick out the scattered MP's nonchalently picking out their lottery numbers or texting their bookies, and  in the dead mans row, third from the back in the centre will sit Gordon Brown, alone, thinking of what had once been.

Yet another Union Dividend

         Scotland

As if woeful Wednesday wasn't a bad enough day for Scotland, word has just filtered through that the Sunday Times Scotland has been more or less closed down. A skeletal staff comprising of a reporter, a sports reporter, a columnist and a parliamentary correspondent will remain. Roughly equivalent to the same amount of staff as the Dumfropolis Literary Gleaner and Educator. 

I suppose the writing was on the wall when News International shifted their commercial advertising sales to join production in Manchester... Honestly, Mancunian's selling advertising to Scottish businesses in a Scottish paper...that'll be a skoosh.

This is particularly bad news for those who see the need for a balanced impartial media in Scotland. The Sunday Times Scotland (STS) was the paper which did such great work on the Steven Purcell coke, gangsters,alleged corruption, and Labour placemen in arms length organisations saga, whilst other 'Scottish' dailies and Sundays thirled to the Labour establishment and afraid to question them, stuck their thumbs in their mouths and made wee wee. 

STS was blessed with some exceptional talent, Allan Brown and Gillian Bowditch among them. However, the one person that will be missed by legions of loyal readers is the estimable Joan McAlpine, Scotland's most learned, common sense columnist. The flip side, naturally, is that they have the utterly hat stand Jenny Hjul and her lovely lopsided smile...

Reporters like Mark MacAskill and Jason Allardyce, editorial staff Carlos Alba and Camillo Fracassini, did such a great job that at times you almost forgot the paper was the property of the great Satan, Rupert Murdoch.

With an average sale of 68,000 they outsold all their Scottish rivals, consistently selling more than 10,000 copies per Sunday than nearest rival the Liberal Democrat supporting Scotland on Sunday.

One thing is obvious now that if an organisation as august and well financed as the Sunday Times can't survive in this internet age, how long before the Sunday Herald and Scotland on Sunday cease to exist, particularly with their rabid anti-Scotland editorials?

Now that David Cameron is Prime Minister and he tells us he will take a softer approach to Scotland, now is the time for him to have a look at devolving broadcasting to Holyrood, so that Scotland can have that basic component of a civilised country, an independent media. 

The cradle of democracy in a cradle of filth.

It is a commonly accepted fact down here in Dumfropolis that when the traffic lights aren't working, traffic moves smoother and faster, drivers are more cautious and courteous. Most important of all pedestrians and cyclists are treated with respect, as opposed to the usual annoyance from drivers who perceive them as holding up traffic with their crazy road crossing antics.

It occurred to me this morning, whilst chatting to a couple of folk who both commented on how bemused they are with the current traffic jam of our Parliamentary system, that really life can flow along a lot easier without the restrictions of well rewarded politicians telling us when to stop, wait and go.

The giddy excitement of the media feeding frenzy on Messrs Brown, Cameron and Clegg involving talent show style debates entirely empty of content; where the political parties are simply vying for voters attention as personalities, the subsequent apotheosis of Nick Clegg and finally the helicopter TV shots, I've just viewed of politicians walking along a street from one meeting to another whilst the media complain about protesters daring to shout questions at them, or incredibly whine about those protesters with megaphones drowning out the broadcasters, suggests our system is well and utterly fucked. 

Obviously there would be incredible benefits to the public purse were we to remove our elected classes. I'd love to know just how much every year of our taxes goes into paying salaries; expenses, allowances, staffing, office rental, stationary, fact finding trips to exotic places, travel, mileage and training. How much does this form of 'democracy' cost us; what's the total for every councillor, MSP, MP, MEP and expenses bloated Lord that we fork out for? Then there's the cost of elections on top of all that...

During the election campaign, the Tartan Overlord spoke about abolishing the House of Lords and saving £100 million a year. Yes each year the upper chamber costs us one-hundred million pounds for the privilege of having The Seven Hundred and Thirty-Six Right Honourable Lords Spiritual and Temporal of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland in Parliament assembled. The reality is that Eck was wrong, our renowned economist didn't do his sums correctly, according to Open Europe the actual cost of the House of Lords is One Hundred and Fifty-Three Million Five Hundred Thousand Pounds per annum.

The House of Commons, which with all it's ancillary benefits is by anyone's stretch of the imagination the cushiest of numbers, comes in at an eye-watering Three Hundred and Sixty-Three Million, Nine Hundred Thousand pounds per annum.

Ahh but without elected Councillors, MSP's, MP's, MEP's and Lords our system of parliamentary democracy would come crashing around our ears, there would be anarchy, blood on the streets, financial instability, who would we turn to in times of national crises? I hear you mumble. 

Well, would it? Our civil servants despite having to possess the ability to twist and turn at the fickle behest of their political masters, tend to just get on with the job? The country hasn't collapsed, people are getting on with their lives, fewer and fewer of us can be arsed to follow the round the clock coverage in the hope of being the first to announce to the tweeteratti who will be the next Prime Minister.

I'm not suggesting we abandon politics and democracy entirely as we obviously need a check on abuses of the system. Therefore we could limit the scale of representation down to the barest of bones. Let's have elected representatives sit on relevant management and policy committees, where they can put forward the electorates views....

'To go beyond is as wrong as to fall short'.

Whilst perusing through these internets this morning, I read the following story on the BBC about an Australian mini-series adaptation of the life of World War One Chinese-Australian sniper and hero, Billy Sing. 

The article informs us that:

'the director, Geoff Davis, actually picked his son, Josh, to play the role, and defended the decision by saying that he could not find a 60-year-old Chinese actor to play Billy Sing's father.
He therefore decided that both men should be Caucasian.'

Quite naturally the Chinese-Australian community are indignant about this white-washing of a man whose father was Chinese and put his life on the line for King and Country.

The director, Geoff Davis, has cast an actor as Sing's father whose previous best known role, was the helicopter pilot in err Skippy... Davies claims not to have been able to find a 60 year old Chinese actor who would work on a deferred payment basis. No stereotype there, then...

On first reading the article I presumed Davies  would be delving in to the hideous world of putting a white actor in make-up to appear 'Oriental', they used to call it 'Yellow face' acting, there's an extensive history of actors doing just that. This tact has been used since the earliest days of cinema since Richard Barthelmess appeared as 'The Chink' in DW Griffiths Broken Blossoms aka The Yellow Man and the Girl in 1919. 

 

The practise continued with Hollywood casting a Swedish actor, Warner Oland, in the eponymous Charlie Chan detective series.

It reached ludicrous proportions with a host of white actors donning make-up, sello-taping their eyes back and adopting a subservient and toothy demeanour. A portrayal which sadly to this day still informs our own native racists.

There's been an excruciating panoply of well respected actors who've gone down this path, when directors supposedly couldn't find an Asian actor for the part. They include Edward G. Robinson in The Bitter Tea of General Yen,  Peter Sellers, Peter Ustinov, Christopher Lee and Boris Karloff have all had a go at the evil Fu Manchu, Keith Carradine as Kwang Chang Caine in Kung Fu (even his surname was Anglicised) and Canadian thespian, Robert Wiseman as Dr No. 

Yet what must rank as one of the most offensive racial stereotypes of Asian characters in cinema history, is generally overlooked and rarely spoken about. It can be found in a film that engenders the feel good factor and is chock full of  love, romance, beauty, comedy etcetera. Mickey Rooney, son of a Glaswegian comic, scraped the stereotype barrel to come up with Mr Yunioshi in Breakfast at Tiffany's. I suspect his role is overlooked simply because of the cult status of Audrey Hepburn.

The intriguing thing for me as a silent cinema buff is that early cinema had genuine Asian film stars who were accepted in a wide array of film roles from villain to hero and saint to vamp. 

Sessue Hayakawa was a Chinese actor who rivalled Fairbanks, Chaplin and Pickford in the superstar and earning stakes. Modern audiences will remember him as Colonel Saito in perennial Bank holiday movie, Bridge on the River Kwai. 


Here he is in the 1915 Thomas Ince romantic film The Coward

Anna Mae Wong was actually an American born Chinese actress, she became a bit of a sultry pin up in the early 1920's

Unfortunately by the time of the Wall Street crash, Hayakawa was being cast as a down the bill villain and Anna Mae Wong was reduced to playing murderous vamps who often reaped the wages of their sin by being raped. Film making had reverted to Anti-Asian stereotypes probably due to the depression and that old standby, a rise in immigration from the East.

Yet, here we are nearly a century on, Jackie Chan, Jet Li and Lucy Liu, Michelle Yeoh, Yung-Fat Chow are superstars of global cinema. Ang Lee is an Oscar winning director working on subjects as diverse as Sense and Sensibility, Brokeback Mountain, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and The Hulk. Meanwhile in Australia this dipstick director can't find a suitable 60 year old Chinese actor to play Billy Sings father, so decides to drop the truth, cast a true blue Ozzie and his own son as Billy Sing and hope nobody notices...fair dinkum.

This is the trailer for Billy Sing. Geoff Davis didn't opt for the lazy stereotype of make-up and comedy accents. He simply whitewashed ethnicity from the screen.




In an effort to save a bit of money, if his excuse is to be believed, Geoff Davies has merely tapped into a mindset that hasn't been seen since the heady days of Thatcher citing the 'Black and White Minstrel' show as being her favourite telly entertainment.

As for Billy Sing, well he married a Scottish girl when he was being nursed for his injuries in Edinburgh. He returned to Australia, and applied to have his wife join him. Despite being a national hero, miscegenation was still frowned upon by Australian society and she never joined him...he died alone and broke in a run down boarding house in the 1940's. That's a real story that needs telling.

The significance of Billy Sing's identity is too rare and too meaningful to be treated so poorly. 
.
.

Good news for the peoples loyal republic of Anniesland and Drumchuckie.

Having been left without a councillor since Steven Purcell resigned due to ill health, stress, gak inhalation and up closes associations with the err associates of know gangsters, the poor folk of Anniesland and Drumchapel have been left to their own devices, with no councillor to help them out it must have been a fraught time. 

Fear not for last night Labour achieved a quite remarkable victory and the good voters of the ward went X happy and plunked their mark down beside the name of Christopher Hughes - Labour.

 Mr Hughes who sounds like an eminently sensible chap despite his premature baldness and the African sunset of his manly beard was most effusive in praising the legacy of Mr Purcell, stating, "He did a lot of work and was a very fine councillor for them for a number of years. It was not an issue at all."

The hardest part of coping with addiction is moving on, and I'm genuinely thrilled that the good voters of the Blairtardie ward have had the bravery to put questions of Mr Purcell's judgement, his association with some err shiftier characters in the Glasgow business underworld and of course the role of cronyism with regard to his various quangocrats, to one side...

One can only hope that this is the last of the criminally supplied gak infused political scandals to hit the country...

 

We're doomed...don't think so.

There you go, 3.30 am and the party is just about over. The Tartan overlord's call for 20 SNP MP's proved to be catastrophically overambitious. 

The rampant enthusiasm after the narrow Holyrood victory in 2007 and the splendid Westminster by-election later that year in Glasgow East, came back and smacked Salmond and SNP supporters hard in the face.

Any straws to be clutched at will be dismissed as sour grapes by Labour party supporters and their fellow unionists. However, a biased media utterly thirled to Labour, blindingly negative campaigning and the emergence of tactical voting against the Tories all deserve an airing, simply because they served to turn around and kick the crap out of the SNP's aspirations. Believers in independence are bound to be depressed and suffering from the moops for the next couple of days. 

However, this was a Westminster election and making the breakthrough was always going to be a big ask. I suppose once the psephologist's start number crunching we'll discover that the SNP increased their votes from 2005, sadly that's no comfort at this time. I naively always see elections in optimistic terms, believing the electorate just needs the chance to listen to alternative arguments, before the veil of fear and propaganda is lifted. Jings, more fool me.

BBC Scotland, have rightly gone to the victors for their views tonight. We've had a continuous uninterrupted rant from Messrs Alexander, Murphy and Gray panning the SNP. This crowing and chest thumping will continue for a few days. It'll make some of us depressed, most it will simply anger, it'll help to resolve our desire to show these posturing mountebanks that we are not completely defeated. You have to ask why they aren't gracious in victory, could it be that they still fear the SNP are popular in government, that the task of standing up to the Tories in Westminster will be difficult from opposition and that they have been a woefully poor opposition in Holyrood? They're shrieking and preening because they're quite simply shitting themselves. David Cameron in control of Scotland's finances and reserved matters will not be popular here. A referendum on Independence offers many opportunities and will be difficult for them to manipulate from opposition in both parliaments. 

Holyrood next year, it's all to play for.

     

Wiggle your thumbs if you're a mason...

Look at the clever poster our friends in the Labour Party(Scotland) made for their website. One side of the poster has David Cameron with his eyes shut, the crazy mad eyes shut fool that he is. The other side of the poster has Gordon Brown shaking hands with a man wearing a fetching yellow hard hat, this image shows us all that the Gordon has walked in that man's shoes, he does through the medium of winking. The lovable rogue that he is...

It's an interesting handshake, and one I've witnessed in person. It's not as bad as this one. 

 Or this one:

Or even these:

This non-handshake is quite naturally excruciating.



Here's one he did last night in deepest Dumfries last night whilst glad handling the crowd that turned up to hail the messiah as he walked among the throng curing their ails, making the blind see, the lame walk and the politically challenged vote. 

Some fantastic thumb work going on, in that there manoeuvre.

It reminded me of this.

Last day on borrowed time?

The Jaguar in the photo above made news around the world last week when it hosted one of the most embarrassing, excruciating political gaffes in recent memory.


Gordon Brown's mask slipped and his unguarded moment showed him in the most starkest of terms, to be a vain, shallow politician with regard only for his own perceived public persona...stop me when this sounds too familiar... 


In a last desperate attempt to shore up the evaporating Labour vote for the incumbent MP for Dumfries and Galloway, and friend to the ass, Russell Brown. 

The Prime Minister spoke to a hand picked audience of die-hard supporters that would outdo Stalin in the stage managed stakes in Dumfries tonight. The public were not invited, a cordon of police were placed around the Summerhill community centre in Dumfries. Requests for information on when the PM would be speaking, were met with shifty, 'what's it to you, who are you?' responses, from of all people, the BBC. So much for democracy and license fees.

This is what his press officers released to the media as his Churchillian statement:


Mr Brown told supporters in Dumfries he was the right man to lead Britain through "dangerous and uncertain" economic times and Labour would always have the interests of the British people at heart. 

'Dangerous and uncertain', well if you will go off barging into illegal wars, oh and how's that near ONE TRILLION POUND DEBT that you presided over coming along? If he'd said 'we won't have your interests at heart', that would be news.

"Give us your support and trust and we will be there every day to support you. We will be steadfast, strong and always on your side," he said. 

Say what? That sounds like Jack London's description of his favourite husky in 'Call of the Wild'.


"Whatever your doubts, whatever your disappointments, if you want to secure a recovery that is fair to all and public services that serve all....I ask you to come home to Labour." 

I know I beat you, but I really love you, and I'll be kind to you until the next time I've had a wee bit too much down the boozer...

He said Labour's achievements over the past 13 years contrasted with a Conservative Party that had not changed and "still believed in protecting privilege".  "I say let's not go backwards with the Conservative Party, let's go forward with Labour."

He could also have said lets not go sideways with the Lib Dems. Going forward with Labour, sounds lovely, but where does it lead to? More of the same incompetent dithering, erosion of civil liberties, destruction of the unions and more unelected nobles governing us?


Farewell Gordon Brown, you offered substance after the years of snake oil from Blair, you delivered nothing.

Apart from the ass, all photos above by kind permission of Graham Robertson (c)

Where the wild things are. Labour in Dumfries take huff, Scotsman back them up.

In lieu of a monkey wearing a red rosette. I feel this Ass says more about Russell Brown and the Labour party than I ever could...

Who would have thought that a comment left on a Caledonian Mercury article would have caused Labour in Dumfries to roar their terrible roars, gnash their terrible teeth and spit their spoilt dummy?

The article in Caledonian Mercury, written by that handsome cove Hamish Macdonell, is about Labour's use of celebrity sell outs supporting their party. You know the type of Labour Party apologist who betrays their hard won celebrity, for a chance to touch the hem of Gordon Brown and Baron Mandelson's robes. Eddie Izzard, is the classic example of one who has no thoughts on Iraq, torture, rendition, poverty, corruption, crime etcetera, but hey, he says Britain isn't broken it's 'brilliant'.


In response to comments on the broken down aspects of Greenock, the home town of Labour supporting thespian Richard Wilson and the place he swapped for London in the 1960's, I responded thus to the previous commentator.


Mark MacLachlan says:

May 4, 2010 at 11:03 am

Alibi, a wee drive through Lochside, Lincluden and Sandside to avoid the traffic this morning revealed some ‘Vote Labour’ posters stuck in rather broken down gardens and dirty windows.
There are people in these places who are content to continue in the same walk-to-the-post-office-cash-the-giro-get-weeks-shopping-at-farmfoods-go-home-watch-Jeremy-Kyle-die existence. It’s all too sad. 

Innocuous enough and a fairly bog standard description of the existence of many people living in the run down estates that pass for social housing in Labour's Britain.

Therefore I was a tad surprised that so close to the bone was my comment that Dumfresian Labour supporters or even perhaps a journalist with a hard on for non Union supporting bloggers, would pitch this comment to The Scotsman  as a faux snide article.


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General Election 2010: SNP blogger on the offensive

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Published Date: 05 May 2010

LABOUR claimed to be "deeply offended" by comments written by SNP blogger Mark MacLachlan about voters in Dumfries.

"There are people in these places who are content to continue in the same walk-to-the-post-office-cash-the-giro-get-week's-shopping-at-Farmfoods-go-home-watch-Jeremy-Kyle-die existence. It's all too sad," he said.

Offended anyone? No?

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It's a sad day when 24 hours before an election that's about to see the Labour vote decimated and the party consigned to an electoral Siberia, that all they can think about is trying to put the boot into a blogger who made a comment on an article that moved into a discussion about the generations of Scots lost to poverty, which they have done nothing about. It's all too sad.

I dare say, it'll end up in my local paper The Dumfries and Galloway SubStandard....

£906 billion debt.

In 1997, a disillusioned and much maligned UK electorate kicked the Tories out. After 18 years of sleaze, 'Cash for Questions' a destroyed manufacturing workforce, record unemployment, lost generations, communities torn apart, miners strike...etcetera time was up for Thatcher and Major's 'no such thing as society' society. 

Labour supporters took to the streets, impromptu parties sprung up, the cheers when Scottish Tories fell at the ballot box could be heard throughout the country, the biggest 'ya beauties' being reserved for Messrs, Rifkind, Forsyth and Lang. The Tories lost 178 seats, Labour won an additional 147, giving them their largest victory ever with a total of 418 seats to the the Tories 165.



Bambi Blair was swept in on a wave of euphoria. Expectation was at a height we wouldn't witness again until the arrival of Super-Obama. Things could only--get better. So where, as the cliché asks, did it all go wrong?



Today Labour are desperately fighting to avoid third place in the UK General Election. Labour MP's in marginal constituencies across the UK are bricking it. That generation of predominantly white men in their mid-fifties are facing serious upheaval in their lives and careers. Once the gravy train stops it's nigh on impossible to get back on. What will they do for a living, have they all sounded out consultancies and lobbyists, will they all prostitute their networks for some cash-in-hand representation? Many have filled their boots with as much public largesse as they could grasp. 

The expenses scandal which dominated the European elections last year destroyed the public will to participate. A year later we have a legacy of sound-bites and the three 'main' parties all manfully trying to tip-toe around the scandal whilst adopting suitable chastened postures whenever the subject raises its ugly head. Those MP's facing criminal convictions are used as whipping boys by the boys fervently hoping they are still in with a chance of keeping their jobs.



There's a website titled Labour Watch which I occasionally dip into. It's one of the most dispiriting things you'll ever read. The author has catalogued just about every Labour sleaze and corruption story since 1997. Towards the end of 2008, you can see his or her fervour for spotlighting Labour failings begins to wane, I imagine deciding to compile this list can have serious implications for your well being. The expenses scandal kicked him/her off again. Then I imagine sleaze fatigue kicks in again and there are very few posts in 2010. No doubt the author is a Tory, lots of links to the right wing press, Mail, Express, Telegraph etcetera. However, I defy even the most ardent Labour supporter to spend ten minutes scrolling through the headlines and links and not pause to think, if there's even the remotest possibility that there might just be something in the allegations. Just click and scroll, it's a real eye-opener as to how a supposedly socially democratic, left of centre party can be thirled to the attractions of vested interests, power, wealth, fame and celebrity.

Thanks Labour. No more boom and bust, an end to sleaze. Oh and the astronomical figure that keeps flashing up on the screen comes from the debt bombshell site. A truly horrifying debt accumulator reminiscent of the one Nationwide used to run in the 1970's when Denis Healey was praised for overseeing inflation totter along at 25%.

 


I guess things didn't get better.

Glasgow's most eagerly awaited election result. Ever.

Cooooeeeee, hullo Steven Purcell,  former leader of Glasgow City Council and ex Labour Councillor here. With a wee message for all you pure dead brilliant fans of Scottish Labour. We're pure brilliant sos we urr. Jist when youse hud thought ahd vanished or something here am urr all ready to pile in and help Labour beat they nasty Scottish natz...

See this Thursday youse have got a great big decision to make in Glesga. Cos like, my old seat Drumchuckie and Anniesland is up fur grabs, so it is. Now youse know it makes pure sense that youse all vote fur Labour cos we're like the party that cares an that innit, we look after youse. They other balloons urnae interested in helping youse wi saving yer dole money or gieing youse jobs wi oor pals businesses.

So see on May 6th vote for ma wee pal Chrissy boy Hughes, he's taking over frae me. He'll set about they Nats, jist you watch. Oh and see if youse don't vote fur Labour, youse huv had it. Ah'll get ma pal big Jim tae come round and take a bite oot ae youse. Got it?

Cheeeeriothenoo xxx