Dressing Up



What's New






About This Site

Site Map



Anyone fancy another mince pie? With cream? Thought not. I don't think any other religion allows you to glut yourself into the afterlife quite like the Church of England.

Ummmm, delicious.

21 February 2011


A Mr Bottom has written to me claiming my website appears to be aimed at The Sun readership and panders to the very worst characteristics of the UK. Oh please! Stop it! You don't have to flatter me to get me to answer your emails. Mr Bottom also wonders if I see black people. Well of course I see them; those who have remained black and not tried skin bleaching agents like some I could mention. Impetigo? Pull the other one. Obviously white is the new black.

Anyway it's not me who's prejudiced because I treat you all badly, it's the BBC. For those of you not privileged or lucky enough to have been born and bred in the UK or sent out to the colonies as children to populate the hinterlands, you'll probably not understand that we, in the British Empire, refer to the BBC, affectionately, as Auntie. Albeit a gin-soaked Aunt smelling of urine and as mad as a Hatter who should be locked up for her own good but Auntie, nevertheless.

Anyway, the BBC, or Auntie, is so prejudiced. I sat and watched Lark Rise to Candleford and there wasn't one ethnic minority involved. Not one mad mullah foaming at the mouth and calling for the beheading of all Christians, not one African traffic warden, not one corner shop run by Indians, not one Police Chief over-promoted through positive discrimination. Not even an east-European drug-dealer cum pimp. Unbelievable. What sort of hellish nightmare world is this? And all the actors spoke the Queen's English too! How exclusive is that? How is a young actor, "educated" at school in the last 15 years, supposed to get a job if they're expected to speak English? as most of them haven't been taught or are too dull to be able to speak properly. This is discrimination against young people, which is unfair because youngsters get discriminated all the time being as daft as a brush.

The programme was dreadful, like being back in the 1950s and nobody would want to go back to those times before socialist madness took hold of everyone running the country, would they? I was soon on the old jungle drums to berate the Director General and it must have worked because they've taken the programme off now; talk about "hideously white!" Hopefully we'll have something a bit more inclusive, like the Black and White Minstrels' Show. Black and white people all singing and dancing together; what was wrong with that?

And whilst on the subject, can someone at the BBC please explain to television presenters the difference between "done" and "did": as in "he did it" "I did it" instead of them continually braying "you done it", "he done it" etc. That's right, you're working in the public eye so why not try and hide your ignorance, rather than displaying your stupidity to the entire nation. And get them to pronounce the letter "T" too; everyone sounds as though day is so kewl an ge'in' down wiv er kidz, day is all speakin' in grunz. Innit.

BBC? That's probably the school grades you need nowadays to get a job presenting on television.

Votes For All

Except for lords, lunatics and old lags. I know you can perm any two from three and get the same person but that was always the rule. I remember being taught this at school and the illustration showed a member of the House of Lords, in all his ermine finery; a lunatic in a strait-jacket and a convict wearing a ball and chain. Oh how we laughed at these people because they weren't allowed to vote. Now some European foreigners are upset at the appalling way we treat some of our most vulnerable members of society by not allowing them to vote. I don't know what all the prisoners are getting upset over, voting's not going to change anything anyway and the authorities can always throw the ballot papers away afterwards. Most prisoners probably sign their name with an "X" anyway so get them to sign a confession by telling them it's a ballot paper.

Comedy Doubles

Everyone appears stumped at who the Milliband Comrades look like. To me, they're dead ringers for seventies' "comedy" act, Mike and Bernie Winters, especially Ed; he's only got to put on an oversized bowler hat on to be his double.

A lot of socialist politicians are comedians, you know. I find it hilarious and laugh like a drain when they talk earnestly about the "poor and disadvantaged" and how they want to take everyone's hard-earned taxes to lavish them with 60-inch televisions, computers, X-boxes, BlackBerries and a couple of foreign holidays a year. Luckily they can take money all the money they need from OAPs to give to the undeserving poor, probably because OAPs don't need any money to live on.

19 February 2011

Doing A Runner

Yes, someone's done a runner and run off without paying the fee. Well they say there's no fool like an old fool but if anyone calls me an old fool, heaven help them! Unfortunately, I've been taken advantage of by someone I thought a friend, Andy the undertaker. After a session, Andy said he was, "going out to his car for the money." Sadly, he failed to return. The silly thing about it was I have given him discounts in the past because I knew his circumstances but he said he'd pay. Nevertheless, I always trust people and I hope they trust me so I always take the fee at the end of the session. This is only the fourth time I've been caught, once with a dodgy cheque, twice people have told me they didn't have the money although they did have a very sickly grin on their face, as though that was going to endear them to me and now this. Therefore, in future, if someone needs to "just pop out" to get the money, they'll have to leave their mobile telephone or watch as collateral. Sorry, but I don't like being made a fool of; old or not so old!

3 March 2011


One the UK's many redeeming features is the British sense of humour and especially the ability of the authorities to make complete fools of themselves and to let us have a laugh at their expense. What other reason can there be behind the new 32 page census printed in 72 different languages.

Do they expect us to answer honestly? I should imagine if the authorities need information on people of your sort, they only need to contact the police or social services department but I, for one, have no intention of passing over my personal details to be lost or sold by an incompetent and corrupt government. I always tell lies on diversity forms to make them worthless anyway and I see no reason to change this strategy for the census. As the questions are going to be in so many different languages, because people are too damned lazy or stupid to learn English, I thought I might answer each question in a different language, with the help of Babel Fish, just to keep the census takers on their toes. Or "auf irhen Zehen" in German.

What Is Your Religion? I understand there are supposedly 400,000 Jedi Knights in the UK but probably these are all 30-something year old men living at home with their parents who've used this answer thinking they're very witty and anarchic so I'm going to say Christian. Christianity is the only religion discriminated against in the UK but I don't go to church anyway so it doesn't worry me.

To What Standard Are You Educated? I is edukated in er las' 15 years innit so eyes gotta degree in rap music.

What Sort Of Central Heating Do You Have? What the hell's it got to do with HMG how I heat my home? I keep warm by slapping the bottoms of recalcitrant teenage boys. Okay?

And how am I supposed to answer if anyone stayed here overnight? Yes, in a bondage bag with a large butt-plug and ball-gag for company. I think his name was Spasmo because that's what I called him. Or rather, "in un sacchetto di schiavitu con una confinare-spina...." Okay, you can probably begin to imagine how irritating that's going to be after two or three answers.

And that little box that demands you leave clear for official use only - smear Pritt-Stick over it so officials can't write in it either.

Double-Chimpburger and Fries Please

One of the benefits of having a multi-culti society foisted upon us without us requesting it is the exciting range of exotic foods we can sample, often without the indigenous population knowing it. Now you can buy chimpanzee meat from Brixton Market! Really? I thought that's what went into all burgers. No matter, I just hope it's halal because we wouldn't want to upset our esteemed minorities, would we? Never mind if they don't eat halal. I suppose it's already being force fed to schoolchildren and care home residents; that's probably why children are hyperactive and old folks are comatose and both groups are swivel-eyed and dribbling.

Just wait until our beloved metropolitan elites in Islington and Primrose Hill learn they can invite their social worker friends around to tuck in to a hearty dish of chimp meat, rocket and free-trade Chablis. Mmmmm. More bushmeat, Harriet? I hope they provide sick-bags because you wouldn't want to throw up over left-wing liberals, would you? Well not involuntary anyway.


Roll on 2012! Not because of the Olympic Games, you dunderhead; if I wanted to see young people from every part of the world pumped full of drugs in east London, I don't need to wait for the Olympic Games. No, because 2012 is going to be the end of the world. For some bizarre reason, normally rational people believe a primitive Mayan calander holds the key to predicting Armageddon. This is the same Mayan culture that wasn't clever enough to invent the wheel, I take it. Anyway, like all good impending catastrophes, someone's come up with a ruse to relieve the gullible from their cash. Only in America, but coming here soon, you can hand over £30 grand to live in a bunker whilst nothing happens to those who stay in the real world. If you want, you can take your kids for half price and pets for free. That's a good idea because if something really does happen, and civilisation does end, you can always eat your kids and pets. Probably a good idea to pretend to the organisers that the pig your holding on to is really a family pet. A pig would also come in handy you if you start feeling "lonely" on those long cold winter nights too.

Oooooh, I've got to get in on this scam. I suspect the global warming trick has run it's course now everyone's realised their electricity bills have quadrupled just to build a windmill on the local beauty spot at the insistence of a deranged green madwoman. That'll teach the toffs, won't it "Lord" Prescott?

Here's the deal: you pay me £30k and I put you up for a couple of weeks in the cage. I believe the "date" is going to be 21 December 2012 so you might have to spend Christmas up there too. Not a problem if you're not a Christian though but I hope I don't forget about you while I'm enjoying Christmas on your life savings. I'll let you out after a couple of months and explain that everyone's worked hard to get civilisation up and running again. Oh, and your pet pig was delicious.

Black and White

Well shake my nerves and rattle my brain! No sooner had I made fun of a singer called Beyonce bleaching her skin to look like one of us evil white devils when she goes the other way and blacks up! What in the name....? It's funny this never made headline news at the Beeb as I can imagine the faux howls of outrage and beating of breasts had it been Prince Harry blacking up. We would have been living in a republic faster than you could say "President Blair"; that'll be Cherrie, not disgraced former PM Blair. We wouldn't want him back again, would we children?

I don't doubt all the alternative "comedians" will be making their well-rehearsed and scripted "spontaneous" witticisms on the innumerable quiz shows they all appear on about someone blacking up. Ho-ho how we all laugh at their supposed quick-wittedness. Maybe Beyonce is a Labour Party supporter so that would make it all right as they're above any criticism. Any chance of a quick chorus of "Mammy" instead of The Internationale, comrades?

19 March 2011

Midsomer Madness

You see - Miss Spiteful is right again. That's a lesson of life you must learn and have it tattooed on your forehead: Miss Spiteful is right! Always!

But you were all warned! Don't say you weren't. I warned you all about the hideous whiteness of Larks' Tongues in Candlewax (below) now it's been proven again in Midsomer Murders. Apparently this is a murder mystery programme set in the English countryside but a highly fictionalised account of England today because there are no foreign actors in the cast. Ever. What other nation in the world would trample over the culture and history of its ethnic minorities simply to appease its white supremacists?

If this were real life then the rich lady living in the manor house would be an Afghani asylum seeker on benefits not some dotty old bat eking out an existence in genteel penury. Anyway, the old dear would soon be whisked away into a laughingly titled "nursing" home on the orders of the SS (social services) and have her life savings confiscated to pay for the privilege of being mis-treated by the NHS. Her beloved home with all it's memories could then be turned into units of social housing for the undeserving.

The police, when they're not afraid to leave the safety of their regional headquarters when it gets dark, would stand around giving comfort by befriending some poor misunderstood lovable rogue (cue false tears of victimhood by all concerned for the cameras, please, even hard-bitten social workers) whilst the victim bleeds to death in front of the police "service". That's because elf-un-safety probably prohibits them doing anything to save anyone until they've filled in a risk-assessment form and called in a SWAT team armed with enough weaponry to quell a popular uprising.

Most of the murders in Midsommer should be black on black drug-related shootings or schoolboy gang stabbings. "Rivers of Blood"? How much blood do these liberals need before they realise they were wrong? And most of the murders would never be solved. If they were then the culprits would be released back into the community by a hand-wringing ninnie called a judge exclaiming "My hands are tied but society is to blame". Lucky judge. And the BBC would blame the Thatcher government. No reason, it just always does.

White people? Well most of them wouldn't be in the show because they wouldn't be seen after 5.00 as they would be under curfew after dark because it's far too dangerous to venture out after that time. The only whites to be seen during the day would be rich incomers who have left the rat-race behind them to follow their dream of growing free range lettuce and reducing their carbon-footprint "for the good of the environment" (this should be said with misty eyes and a dopey faraway look on your face, which might not be too difficult for you). Perhaps a pious lecture on the perils of global warming at this point with some images of drowning polar bears to scare the little ones and keep them compliant. These people will have demanded that the church bells, which have rung out since 1066, be silenced as it interfered with their right to a family life and a lie-in on Sundays under the Yuman Rights Act. Naturally, they won't complain when the village church is turned into a mosque and the muezzin is calling the faithful to prayer as they must respect diversity and anyway, it reminds them of the time they spent experiencing traditional muslim culture on their holidays in Sharm-el-shiekh.

And don't even think about depicting fox-hunting in a television programme as all fox-hunters will obviously be Toffs and predominantly white. Any picturesque and historic cottage would more than likely be taken over by a gang of unwashed, drug-crazed squatters all wearing dreadlocks and body-piercings who are hunt saboteurs. Hopefully the police don't smell the cannabis on their patrol otherwise they'll have to get out of their police car and actually do something to earn their pay-packets; like tell these bad boys off and ask them, politely, not to cause too much damage to someone else's property they're squatting in, please.

You see, there's plenty of scope there for actors from all the far-flung corners of the Empire to have a part so there's really no excuse for casting an all white cast. I'm only glad this Midsomer nonsense is fictional as it doesn't sound a place anyone would want to live and I hope viewing figures don't rise because that would really annoy those running the Equality Racket. Or maybe, people enjoy it because it is fictional and an escape from the real-life nightmare and grind they have to endure as part of everyday life.

More Soma for the patients immediately Nurse, they're beginning to wake up.

Slavery In Britain

Illegal? In Britain? That's a laugh. What do they think all these foreigners who work for a couple of bob an hour, while most of the population are cosseted on benefits, really are if they're not slaves? One of the best things the Labour Party ever did was to give us easy access to cheap farm-labourers, plumbers and waiting staff from across the world so we could have a life of ease. Let's raise a glass of fair-trade bubbly to the farsightedness of Harriet and all her socialist comrades for providing us with cheap servants. It's always difficult to get good staff and you never know if they're spitting in your food although I should imagine everyone suffers this difficulty, not just MPs. Fill my glass up, Toby, there's a good lad otherwise I'll call immigration and have you shipped off back home.

Anyway, no, I was not the woman convicted of keeping slaves although I do have a couple but if you're from social services I have no idea who these men in chains are or why they should be wearing a rubber slave harness. With a butt-plug up their bottom.

And Another One Bites The Dust

Close on the heels of my dear friend Ian comes news of the death of a submissive I've known for about 15 years, Michael. Michael is best remembered for having a swastika burnt into his bottom with cigarettes; luckily Mike was a heavy smoker so I had plenty of fags to do it with. I'd also burnt my initial into his other cheek a few weeks earlier. He sent me the underpants he'd been wearing through the post with the design clearly visible marked in blood. I hope he didn't die from septicemia


Axyloid hasn't written a story for a very long time and I know that if mummy doesn't read to you at bedtime then you don't sleep properly and all of those nasty things come out of the cupboard to frighten you in the dark and the voices in your head tell you to do all those vile things. But hey! don't be so damned self-centred and spare a thought for poor Axyloid. He's been captured by a Dominatrix/Bounty Hunter and held in a prison cell in Tennessee. Not in a prison, but in the basement of a private house. I understand some sort of web-camera has been set up to record his captivity. Write a story? Scrawling Please Help Me in fecal matter across his chest doesn't count as a story, does it?

Hey Teacher! Leave Them Kids Alone!

Now children, sit up straight and pay attention. I want to talk to you about sex education.

I don't know about the likes of you but I was always taught to run away from strange men, some of whom were teachers, who wanted to talk about “doing things down there”. Now I understand it’s going to be obligatory for 5 year olds to be taught about sex. Personally, I'd be very suspicious of anyone who wanted to teach very young children about masturbation because, as you should all have been taught, self-abuse leads to blindness and feeble-mindedness and can also lead you to be committed to a lunatic asylum. You wouldn't want that young man, would you? Would you?

Judging by the number of 14-year olds having babies I would have thought that schoolchildren knew all there was to know about sex; any chance they can be taught their times tables instead so they can learn to count? But what do I know? I’m not an “I-know-best” liberal-minded educationalist with a PhD in social work. But any boy caught masturbating like some demented baboon will be liable to a damned good six of the best; across the bare back-side I'll have you know just in case you haven't washed your hands.

That's the sex education out of the way now open your books to page 143 for a jolly hour of practising trigonometry - sine, cos and tan. There, now doesn't that sound more enjoyable than looking at photographs of naked women?

5 April 2011

The Cuts

Cuts, cuts, cuts! Yes, I know everyone's going on about cuts but cuts are needed! You can't give a good caning without some cuts, can you? How is anyone supposed to suffer a judicial caning on the bare backside without blood being spilt? Don't worry about bloodied canes, I always find the cheeks of anyone's bottom perfect for wiping the blood off the cane. It's as though it was designed specifically for that purpose. And for the squeamish amongst you who want "safe, sane and consensual" I've got plenty of surgical spirit, although you'll find it stings a bit.

But don't worry, I won't feel a thing. Now, as they're throwing money around like a drunken sailor, how do I claim for benefits and get my share of all this easy cash HMG is giving away?

The End Of A Long Weekend

Following on from my complaint that Axyloid had only managed to smear excrement across his torso in an attempt to keep you all amused by writing a story in his prison cell, Canada Bill has concluded his story, The Long Weekend. This is a salutary warning against meeting young women. Thankfully, the terms of Bill's probation prohibits him from doing so and Bill's Probation Officer keeps a very close eye on him; except perhaps when he's doing his community service. Anyway, enjoy the story.

You're In The Army Now

There is a God! Prison Officers are going on strike and HM Prisons are going to be staffed by the Army. You can always count on the British Army in times of trouble. I can just imagine a couple of battle-hardened squaddies showing respect to "Mister" Hamza and his Islamist chums especially at Friday prayers. Fancy a bit more pork, Sheik Abu? This time you can eat it for a change.

Sheik Abu? Preferably warmly by the throat. Maybe they should get Lynndie England to supervise, she did so well at Abu Gharib gaol in Baghdad and soon instilled discipline especially when dragging prisoners around on a dog-lead. I hope they put the videos on YouTube or something so we can all laugh at them.

Who says Ken Clarke is a soft liberal? Where do I apply?

Lessons Will Be Learnt

Sigh! Don't these people ever learn from their past mistakes? What on earth has disgraced former PM Blair poked his nose into another Arab hell-hole for? Oh, it isn't Blair now is it, it's someone quite different but exactly the same. That peace envoy job to the Middle East going well, is it Mr Blair?

Anyway, luckily we've involved everyone else this time so if the UK has to send troops in to fight, they'll all be behind us. Thankfully, we've been fighting for nearly ten years to bring peace in some other fly-blown desert "kingdoms" so the MOD will have plenty of equipment to fight this one.

Thank heavens we've got so much money that we can pay for a life of luxury for all the ex-government ministers who'll want asylum. Better instruct the Old Bill to don bullet proof vests if they're going to protect them though as some of these people are a little trigger-happy. We wouldn't want any more police officers murdered by these diplomats, would we? Did I write diplomats? I meant murdering terrorists.

But what happens if the Mad Dog of Libya wins? Sorry about blowing your country up, Madman, we couldn't buy some oil for our jets, could we? And why is he wearing his wife's dress and hat all the time? His tailor's not Monty Python, is he? It looks the sort of zany sketch they would have dreamt up. I'm sure he dyes his hair too; it looks unnaturally black to me.

All right class, stop laughing. We're going to have a test. You are in the school playground running around and screaming like a deranged banshee because your slattern of a mother feeds you on lard-burgers when a fight breaks out between two school bullies from the form above you. What do you do?

Do you:

a. Run away and play with the girls in the hope they'll put make-up on your face and force you to wear their panties?
b. Form a circle and watch excitedly, egging on the two ruffians to slog each other around the head for everyone's entertainment then make friends with the winner?
c. Come between them and risk getting a good hiding?

That's right, from the safety of standing behind the girls you giggle like the ninny you are and watch as these two hooligans from a rough council estate beat each other senseless. What you don't do is poke your nose in because they, and all their friends, will turn on you and beat you to a pulp. Then you'll have to pay them all of your pocket money to stop them bullying you. Especially when all the teachers are too afraid to intervene in case they get arrested by the police or get sued under elf-unsafety.

That's not too difficult a lesson to learn, is it?

Fink Fings Fru

I can't put it any clearer than that, can I?

Is there anything more ridiculous than a smug, bearded 40-something college "lecturer" who's never done a day's work in his life, demanding "the downfall of capitalism and the immediate installation of a Workers' Soviet" (or some such nonsense) on the BBC's Propaganda at One because his sinecure is disappearing due to "The Cuts"?

Okay, so all these anarchists, layabouts and grubby, unwashed creatures rioting in London want to bring down capitalism and want anarchy to reign. Fine! Let's do it! Let's all live in a pre-industrial utopia without all the trappings of consumerism. Now, after smashing up Fortnum and Mason's, destroying capitalism and eating the rich - what next, comrades? Bear in mind that some of the rich might be mummy and daddy but we've all got to make sacrifices for our brave new world, haven't we? Mummy always made a nice curry, anyway.

We'll have to build billions of windmills across the country to supply our energy needs, provided the wind blows. And we can all go about on horse-back rather than pollute the world with petro-chemicals; anyway, we won't have any oil unless we invade a country with oil. You can also use the horse manure to put on your rhubarb; I think I'll have custard on mine, if you don't mind.

And do you all think you're going to carry on as you were: receiving state handouts or a trust fund and living a life of drunken debauchery as students? Going to raves and being drugged for a couple of days and pretending to study while cribbing your dissertation from the Internet? Oh no. No trust fund because that'll be stolen by the great unwashed. No capitalism, no welfare state so you're all going to have to work for a living; don't be frightened, it's what mummy and daddy did to keep you in luxury. No work, no money. No money, no food, no drugs, no beer, no Internet connection, no top-of-the-range I-phone, no car, no education.

Media Studies? No, we don't need media students we need people to dig coal out of the ground and, like Stakanov, you're going to need a bigger shovel!

Now, unless you really want to live in this Marxist paradise, get back to smoking dope, studying the media and keep quiet.

There'll still be a need for a Dominatrix though, won't there?

29 May 2011

School's Out

Sit up straight everybody and pay attention. I want you all to write an 1000 word essay on South Devon and send it to me, pronto. This is because I'm going there on holiday in June and I want to know all about it before I travel.

Is it the sort of place that a genteel soul like myself would enjoy? Does it have plenty of fast food outlets? Are the pubs open 24 hours a day in an attempt to create New Labour's laughable vision of a continental cafe culture? Are there plenty of multi-storey car parks covered in "urban art"? Is there a "rich tapestry of multi-cultural diversity"? Is Farsi and Urdu spoken? Is there an eclectic mix of humanity begging on the streets whilst illegally claiming benefits? Are there any east European street-walkers who have been people smuggled into the country? Are the locals afraid to walk under ladders because of elf'n'safety "orders". I hope not because I wouldn't want to holiday in a place like that.

Your homework will also give me a lot of banal, illiterate nonsense to laugh at when I'm down in Devon before I heartlessly rip the essays up and throw them in the bin with ill-disguised derision. Well that's what teachers do with their pupils' homework, isn't it? Surely they don't get the chimps to write that twaddle in the hope they'll actually learn something, do they? Being a teacher must give you ample opportunity to have fun at the children's expense.

I know that a lot of schools, especially those with idiots for pupils, have to tell youngsters the answers to examination questions beforehand so the school isn't closed down as a failure and everyone can pretend exam results are getting better. So if your pupils make your life hell and write lies about you on Facebook you can get your own back by making up any old nonsense and tell them that, for a small fee, you'll show them the answers to their GCSE exam papers. Take a camera on the day the exam results are out and you can enjoy forever the look on their slack jawed, burger-eating faces when they realise you've blighted their lives.

I would have made an excellent teacher as I'm a very caring person; firm, but fair; with a good supply of school canes and I've had a lot of practice thrashing bare bottoms. Nothing like the school cane to instil discipline. Have you sent me your essay yet?

Gagging For It

Oh! So he was the one that everyone's been talking about on the Internet; the one with the gag.... Who is he again? I have to say, even though I'm not normally interested in celeb gossip, I was rather curious who it could be but when I found out I realised that frankly, I couldn't give a damn. But he must be a wonderfully thoughtful husband thinking of his wife and children to pay all that money to save them from this humiliation, even if he was committing infidelity.

Money well spent, wasn't it?

The lesson to learn here is never listen to your solicitor or the voices in your head; or act upon them. Always better to accept your punishment and divorce your wife rather than contact Novak & Good injury lawyers in the hope you can stop the entire country laughing at you, and cheaper too! But I don't understand why he didn't use the all-encompassing elf n safety regulations, "if you don't stop tweeting my name, I'll send some thugs around to break your fingers". It always works for me when I send Quilp around to have a quiet word in someone's shell-like. And this chap must know a lot of ugly characters being a footballer. Apparently he's Welsh too so I hope he didn't wipe his penis in the curtains afterwards. Well there's a proper gentleman for 'ew.

Don't worry if you're concerned about me going to the papers about your sexual fantasies if you're a famous celeb, I've got plenty of gags and I wouldn't recognise you anyway. If you're not famous, well nobody cares about you and nobody would want to read about you so you'll be quite safe.

3 June 2011

Soon I'll be down enjoying myself in sunny Devon, far from the maddening crowd and the local untermensch. Everything's set and packed and I've treated myself to some new clothes from Allan Akbar Fashions with a couple of new fashionable burkas all in stunning up-to-the-minute colours: black. And I managed to get a burkini too; these are the tent-like garments you can go swimming in the sea without any fear of driving the yokels mad with lust. Of course you're in danger of drowning so swings and roundabouts really. Burkas are great if you're going to do a bit shop-lifting too so I can understand why they cut the hands off thieves where the mad mullahs hold sway.

We always go self-catering on holiday as this is easier and we prefer to get our own food. Because Devon's quite pastoral, there's plenty of fresh fruit and veg on offer in the local allotments and gardens for us to pick our own. And yes, we always leave a thank you note to the local gardeners for their bounty. Anyway, this is much safer with all this e-coli poisoning and I suspect this is the revenge of the vegetables; a bit like Day of the Triffids but boiled in water and served with a nob of butter on top. This is why we eat meat; lots of it but you try telling that to a sanctimonious and humourless vegetarian chewing on their bean curd. Mmmm, delicious.

We're also going to lay slave Ian to rest on the River Dart at Totnes. Thank God he was cremated as dumping a body in the river would probably get all the mad vegan hippie women pulling their hair out and foaming at the mouth claiming we're destroying children's futures by polluting the environment. I suppose the old Bill would want to have a quiet word too. Hopefully a few ashes won't cause too much global warming so polar bears can rest in peace; a bit like Ian.

20 June 2011

Me "So this is sunny Cornwall, is it?"

Exasperated Yokel "No, this is Devon, not Cornwall".

Me "Well, it's not sunny either".

So began our holiday in Devon during a tempestuous rainstorm. Thankfully the sun came out and it brightened up afterwards but because I'm fair skinned, I now look like a strawberry mivvi. I blame you all for this; you should all have been recycling to stop this global warming.

Yes, I see what's happening here, everyone's beginning to get their gas and electric bills and now all the sanctimonious vegan mad-women and busy-bodies who demand we do as they say on climate change are beginning to realise this windmill nonsense comes with a very large price tag. All very well when they demand everyone else "do their bit" to save a polar bear and the reputation of climate change "scientists" who have made a fortune on some ridiculous, hare-brained predictions but not at the expense of their third foreign holiday! Well we all have to make sacrifices to save the planet and Guardian-reading liberal madwomen and their brood of precocious brats will have to take their holidays camping on Hampstead Heath rather than fly Easyjet to Goa. I hear the Heath is rather pleasant at night.

And going on holiday in this country is so inexpensive too as you can pick your own in the local allotments and milk can be had for the taking early in the morning from outside the local cafes and schools. And I always find motorway services are an invaluable source of free cutlery and crockery. You see, recycling works.

Ahh! Devon. I love the west country, it's like the land where time stood still. Many Devon men are so full of style, a style which is probably based on a Wurzels tribute band around the mid-70s. I shouldn't think they've seen a barber or looked in the mirror since the 70s either. I always think a man with long, straggly grey hair and beard looks so suave and urbane and so do they apparently otherwise why else would they look like that. As for the women-folk we came across, they all know their place: waiting in a genteel tea-room serving up cream teas and Cornish pasties; oops, there's Cornwall again, maybe next year.

The 'Lympics

How appalling that the Libyans are coming to London for the 'Lympics next year. They're going to win all the medals in the shooting competitions as they've had the most practice, it's so unfair on the other competitors. With any luck the British Army will have a team of marksmen too but they'll probably be deployed on the top of buildings; they've had even more target practice shooting jihadis from the West Midlands dead.

Yeah, like that doesn't happen.

Still, when were the Olympic Games ever about fair play and sportsmanship? Who can forget the look of unmitigated ecstasy on the faces of Lord Seb, Dame Kelly and all the hangers-on jumping up and down with glee when they'd realised London had won the Games and they were all going to become multi-millionaires. Magic! That's the true spirit of the "The Games".

And by the way, you'd better make sure your idiot spawn are locked up in their bedrooms during the games too if they're university students just in case their lecturers bamboozle them into rioting through London again. The unions will probably be on strike and students are very easily led. For the rest of you, I suppose your children are probably safely locked away in a secure unit of a young offenders institute so you can sleep peacefully at night. Just like your neighbours can now your kids are locked up. Peace of mind, priceless; for everything else there's Ritalin. The reason for this is because you know the Libyans are a bit trigger-happy and you know what they're like when they see rioting students; you wouldn't want to have your boy come home in a box, would you?

Reading and Writing

A new story for you to read from Chained Slave entitled "The Basement". Slave had to learn how to write with his toes because, as his name implies, he was chained up at the time. I hope you enjoy reading it. I enjoyed watching him struggle to write it.

Off With Their Heads

I've always liked the old Duke of E. as he's always forthright in his views and doesn't care too much for political correctness. Soooo refreshing in this day and age when we all have to watch our Ps and Qs in case we hurt the feelings of some immigrant whose backward culture we have to pretend to respect. It's so difficult listening to them explain about their traditions or the way they dress without bursting out laughing. I'm usually careful I don't say anything to upset Johnnie Foreigner or the slack-jawed waddling burger eating inbreds and imbeciles that infest the UK nowadays; even fatsoes and mad Mullahs have feelings so we shouldn't poke fun at them.

But if the Duke doesn't suffer fools gladly, why did the BBC send some dopey air-head to interview him who clearly wasn't smart enough to do the job? Why didn't they send one of their in-house sneering left-wing comedians? Probably all too busy rehearsing their answers for Question Time, I suppose. Surely, one of Britain's best-loved comedians could have interviewed the Duke? They're all full of themselves, strutting like cocks when they're doing stand-up in front of a tame audience of drugged-up metropolitan elite. Maybe they're not so brave when they have to face someone who can answer them back and have them locked up in the Tower of London. Oddly, although they laugh at everything British and British traditions, they never seem to poke fun at the insane ravings of fundamentalist islamists, do they? Funny that.

17 August 2011

Well I'm sure everyone agrees this is a great advertisement for the London Olympics, isn't it Lord Seb? Wenlock and Mandeville. The two dysfunctional mascots who sum up the juvenile thinking behind London 2012. Why do most things these days look as though they were designed by 18 year olds for 14 year olds? I was thinking of hiring the two Olympic mascots to see what it is they do exactly. I think their only purpose is to scare infants into taking their medication as they both seem to be the product of someone who's taken too many drugs. And surely they should be called something more inclusive like Abdoo and Obefemi? Wenlock and Mandeville sound like two gallant Victorian army Captains who single-handedly fought off a couple of thousand fuzzy-wuzzies in the Sudan or some god-forsaken place. Weren't the Equality und Rasse Industry consulted on this? What sort of message does that send out about Britain to the rest of the world?

Oh, you mean the rioting and looting? Yes, it doesn't look too good to the rest of the world but Britain can take it! If we can see off the hun we can deal with brain-dead thieves and low-life criminal scum; even if some of them do come from well-off, middle-class families. A fun day out at Alton Towers theme park with their social workers will teach them a thing or two. And what can be said of the dope who stole electrical goods and put his booty and mug-shot on Facebook? Nurse Ratched, make sure this patient is given a dose of electric shock treatment and locked in a padded cell for his own safety.

Quilp, bless him, had to interrupt his "Burn-A-Koran" barbeque and telephone me, worried that Michael Caine had died because he thought all the TV channels were showing re-runs of Zulu. Poor, simple Quilp. But where are Lts. Chard and Bromhead when we need them? Thankfully the old Bill indulged in a bit of good old-fashioned police brutality with drawn truncheons once they'd decided to ignore liberal do-gooders like high-ranking police chiefs. Try appealing to their better nature but if that doesn't work, shoot them with rubber bullets and water cannon. Nato won't start bombing us because we've got the Olympics coming next year.

Yes, it could put a number of people off coming to Britain so Lord Seb needs to put a clever positive spin on it. He could package it as an all inclusive deal such as visit London, watch the egg and spoon race, a little late-night shopping, claim asylum and live a life of luxury on benefits for the rest of your life having never contributed a thing. Who wouldn't want that? And get a council flat too. There'll be plenty once the families of looting scum get evicted. But why go for a council house? Just move into Hampstead and demand to be housed in a million pound property, plenty of asylum seekers do.

Oohh! I bet the "no-win, no fee" Yuman Rights weasels will be rubbing their hands with glee and opening a crate of free-trade Blue Nun to celebrate when they realise the amount of legal aid on offer, "My client says he was out picking blackberries, your honour, when the looting was going on". Naturally the human rights industry are already starting to bleat about the unfairness of putting thieves and looters in gaol, where they rightly belong but it was heartening to see some of the parents shopped their own thieving off-spring for looting; I hope they claimed the reward.

We could always turn rioting and looting into an Olympic sport, our only competitors will be the Levant. Incorporate it into the shooting competitions and we'd all pay good money to watch that.

But who is to blame for all this criminal behaviour? Well, the Thatcher government obviously, that goes without saying although the BBC will keep saying it. And society, the police and authorities are all to blame as "dey don't give, like, dem yoofs duh respec' dey deserve, man, innit, you know, like, innit?" Well learn to speak English you gibbering imbecile and maybe you'll get some respect, young man.

So tell us Miss Harman, in your never-ending quest to destroy British values, culture, way of life, history, responsibility, discipline in schools, family life, patriotism, self-discipline, etc. didn't you and your very rich, middle-class left-wing liberal PC comrades realise that this lawlessness and anarchy was the most likely outcome? Or are you really as stupid as you look?

John The Dapper

Now class, face the front; I have some wonderful news for you all. I have been given a brand new teaching aid, something to encourage even the dullest amongst to learn: it's a brand new dapper. I know I have other dappers but this one has had its sole worn flat so it comes down square on the bottom with a resounding smack. This would be a great warm-up for the hop, skip and jump in the Olympics. John from Essex, who donated the implement thought he'd never been hit so hard after I tried it out on his bottom. And poor Mark has promised to change his behaviour after a good dozen across his bare buttocks. What fun! Now let's have some education, education, education. And if anyone turns up with a brand new pair of trainers, I shall want to see the receipt.

Now, a couple of hours solving Algebra problems should take your mind off any thoughts of rampaging through Poundland.

3 September 2011

At last, someone in the government is listening to what I've been saying for years: a good thrashing cures most of society's ills. I'm sure we would all like to beat senseless the scum rioting through the country the other week, I know I would. I've already offered my services to the authorities and I expect Scotland Yard to contact me soon. Now I expect I'll have to show teachers how to discipline unruly louts posing as school-children. Trust me, dull and simple lad, I'm a lot cheaper than some hand-wringing namby-pamby and a lot more effective. Pupils' rights? You have the right to remain silent whilst you're being taught to behave yourself. And if you don't want to learn, then we shall take Mr Cane out of the cupboard and give you a damned good beating on the bare buttocks. When can I start?

Now most of the rioters have been banged up in chokey and sentenced to working on the chain gang for a couple of years, for the pleasure of Her Majesty, we now have to suffer the organised bleating of outraged liberals bewailing the fact that wrong-doers are to be punished. It's dreadful that those who had their houses and businesses burnt down and have lost their livelihoods don't appear to take such a liberal outlook. They should be a bit more compassionate to poor deprived juvenile delinquets. They only burnt and looted all those stores because they were bored; they've got nothing to do because the evil government has closed all the yoof clubs due to the cuts.

I love the blank, vacant look and unintelligent drivel you get when TV reporters ask these yoofs to explain the Cuts. I can see why they wear their baseball caps with the brim on the side or at the back - it's such a good look - they're too daft to put them on properly.

Luckily our sensitive, conscientious rabble-rousers and Marxist lunatics have found a new cause to champion: defending large areas of the countryside and turning them into pig-stys, or traveller sites as they're laughingly called. Good call by the government to get these agitators out of the cities and into areas where the only thing they can burn are rubber tyres and caravans. And a master-stroke to get the Ac-Tor Vanessa Redgrave involved. If anyone can turn people off any cause it's the supercilious and patronizing Mz Redgrave. Not doing a lot of film-work these days, Vanessa? Still leading the Workers Revoltunary Party, I suppose; yeah, right - as if Vanessa Redgrave has ever done a day's work. And why doesn't she call herself an actress?

I don't suppose anyone has thought of asking this criminal scum how they earn their living, have they? I mean the unemployable class-warriors not the travellers. We all know the travellers earn a living from threatening OAPs to pay over their life savings to have their front gardens tarmacadamed. Obviously, the tax-man will be advising them to ensure they've submitted their tax returns on line, otherwise we might as well all refuse to pay our fair share of tax, wouldn't we? And as they've all lived the traditional gipsy life of travellers and stayed in the same camp for the past 10 years, there'll be no excuse for the tax man to say they have been unable to find them.

No, I'd like to know how anarchists can afford to take a couple of days off looking for work to help protect vulnerable travellers live their preferred lifestyle in filth and misery. Where do they get "their" money from? If HMG is really interested in coming down hard on the criminal underclass they could stop all their benefits until they all leave. Anyway, the RAF is at a bit of a loose end now Libya's coming to a close, we could get them to bomb the camp.

A Dedicated Follower Of Fashion

They seek him here, they seek him there. How can someone with a face like a old man's unwiped bottom wearing what looks like a tent and his wife's pill-box hat manage to evade the SAS? They've looked in the Casbah, I suppose; that's where people on the run go, isn't it? Do you think he could have slipped past our eagle-eyed UK Border Guards? Oh well, I'm sure he'll turn up somewhere in a benefits office claiming family allowance or some such easy money, "You want extra benefits, you have to promise to vote for de Labour Party, Mr Go-Daffy". And did anyone notice the wallpaper and furniture in his front room? No wonder he was mad; I'd be mad if an interior designer decided I wanted to live in the 1970s with retro soft furnishings although that's something the Arabs have in common - bad taste. Don't send in the SAS, call in DIY SOS.

And his wife? Cover the eyes of small children, you'll give them nightmares. She reminds me of Quilp wearing make-up and women's clothes and believe me, it is not a pretty sight; especially when Quilp is on his hands and knees mopping the floor and showing his suspenders to all and sundry. No wonder they cover their womenfolk in dust sheets.

Yes, I know, you've come over all Gandhi and worrying yourself about innocent civilians being killed but don't fret, Nato is dropping bombs on them to save their lives. I don't quite understand it myself but HMG tells us it is right so who would disbelieve anything the British Government would say? So, let's see: 40-odd years of mad-dog socialism, the ruling party gets kicked out and someone else comes along and offers something completely different. Has anyone thought that now they've got a democratic vote, they might all vote for the Taliban to take over and attack the West? Then what?

14 September 2011

On Your Marx

Get Set. I'll be increasing my prices during this 3-week Olympic sporting extravaganza in line with all other businesses as everyone sees this as an opportunity to make lots of money from the thousands of mugs who've travelled across the world to watch some boring track events or whatever. I don't know if I'll be able to stay awake for much of it myself as, no matter what the event is, it all looks exactly the same as the last heat/race/jump/dive/running-about-thing to me. Thank God we haven't got the Winter Olympics as this is the only sporting event which is even more boring: "and here's someone ski-ing down the slalom in exactly the same fashion as everyone else has but 0.002 seconds slower." Still at least we've got the football tournament to keep us interested in... football and thankfully we won't have those dreadful African trumpets braying at the games, will we?

Are England playing? It's always better when England play as that brings out the best of the English: rampant nationalism. Well that's how we built an Empire and brought civilisation to the sub-continent, Africa and the rest of the world. We wouldn't be allowed to have an Empire in this day and age with elf and safety and Harriet's Equality und Rasse Industry.

Ahh, but we're only playing Europe this time, aren't we? Quilp gives me this scintallating piece of information in the belief I'm vaguely interested. So, France, Germany, Italy, Holland, eh? We should be able to defeat all of them again and thank God, all of this really will be all over by Christmas. (My apologies, I should also have included Spain, Russia, Turkey and the Austro-Hungarian Empire in this list, all of whom we have defeated in some tournament or other.)

Rob from NZ has sent me a commerative set of postcards for the Olympics, which look suspiciously like rioting Londoners to me; especially the Weightlifting card, which shows hooded youngsters making off down the road with boxes of electrical goods. I thought weightlifting involved lifting iron above the head and getting a hernia. I've already had to deal with a number of looting suspects by giving them a good swift 36 of the best. I'm only surprised the judiciary haven't taken up this idea as many of the miscreants telephone me to confess and ask when they can come to be punished and pay a hefty fine. Seems to make the police, criminal courts and prisons a bit redundant.

No matter. I shall send these cards off to His Lordship Sebastian and the Olympic organisers wishing them good luck on this foolhardy venture. For what else can it be apart from foolhardy and a chance for them to make their fortunes? I shall also thank them for the copy of the booklet I've received instructing me on how to speak to foreigners. Well I'll have you know that I'm well aware of how to speak to foreign people, thank you very much, without the need of a booklet. I'm much travelled in Europe and all the waiters I spoke to had fairly good English so I managed to make myself understood and get exactly what I ordered most of the time. And shouting loudly always brings a fairly snappy response too.

I also found the paragraph on what to do and say to a man who's wearing a dress rather patronising. Again, I've had plenty of experience of seeing men dressed up in women's clothes and I know how to speak to them: usually, "Get on your knees you little pansy slut and suck my strap-on. Afterwards, I'm going to bugger you into next week." Although this might not be appropriate with our djebella-wearing guests.

So, all-in-all a great opportunity to have a laugh at other people's expense. And the best part is they'll never know until they're far, far away. "You want to know the way to Trafalgar Square? Take the tube to Edgware and turn right at the tube entrance." HeeHee.

The Star-Spangled Banner

"Oh say can you see, by the dawn's early light...."

All those fanatical muslim jihadis, officer, burning the American flag. Didn't you see them? Why don't you arrest them? What's the matter constable, is it because it would violate their human right to be vile, contemptible, goat-bothering creatures who should be deported back to the squalor of their Stone Age hell-hole whence they came?

I suppose the police were allowing them to celebrate their diversity by causing offence; that's part of their culture, innit? But shouldn't they be arrested for inciting hatred, Home Secretary? Because, believe me, I hate to see these halal-eating, in-bred, beardy-boys taking advantage of the stupidity and cowardice of the British authorities. I'm only surprised the old bill didn't allow the jihadis to wear the policemen's helmets as they do at the Notting Hill Carnival, didn't fancy a bit of skanking on this occasion then, officer? And let's congratulate the stupidity of the senior police officers who decided to chivvy the EDL out of the way to allow the jihadis to demonstrate. Lucky the police were there to protect the mad mullahs from everyone else otherwise they'd have gotten a good kicking.

But you'd have thought that after the first days of looting and the student riots last year, police officers would have realised that baton charges and a bit of police brutality is the answer to lawless protesters otherwise you might as well offer the jihadis a blow job. Well if you're going to get down on your knees to these people....

Now, here's a homework question for you class. If we give these ingrates more benefits and better social housing, would that make them like us more for being kind, or would it make them dispise us even more for being gutless?

Funny the mad Madhis never attempted flag-burning in New York last Sunday, after all it's the Land Of The Free, right? But I suppose that could also mean the Americanos are also free to shoot to kill. We have a lot to learn. I remember speaking with an American after a session and telling him about Sheik Abu's antics. He replied that the Sheik could do and say exactly the same in the US but when he returned home, he'd find his house had been burnt down. We have a lot to learn.

And dear old auntie Beeb? They probably "commemorated" the day with a couple of programmes claiming America was to blame for the attack on the Twin Towers and demanding the destruction of Israel, showing the Palestinians ulalating like demented monkeys in celebration, (yes, we still remember them doing that when the Twin Towers fell) a BBC "reporter" crying over the death of the 19 Saudis and a documentary on Gauntanamo Bay. Makes you proud to be British, doesn't it? I just hope the yanks don't see footage of the news report so they realise how spineless Britain's authorities have become. They might invade us.

The Third London Festival of Japanese Rope Bondage

If you fancy looking at some near naked women tied up in rope bondage and treated like sex objects, you might be interested in visiting the Third London Festival of Japanese Rope Bondage, organised by my friend Nawashi Murakawa. I understand it's being held at the Barbican on 23 - 26 September but you can find details by visiting www.nawashimurakawa.com/festival and following the links on that page.

Just don't get caught touching yourself.

4 October 2011

Pay attention at the back! I'll be asking you questions later.

Can any Mistress beat this, I wonder? Up until now, the farthest anyone has travelled to visit me is Sweden. That's someone coming all this way just to visit me and then going straight back home, not coming to London on business or as a tourist. That's coming all the way just for a session. That was until last week, when Steven flew to London all the way from O-High-O for a judicial caning. He landed on Monday, got taken for a ride by his taxi driver, visited me on Tuesday to have his yankee ass whupped and then, dag nammit, mosied on back into town to head out on Wednesday and skedaddle back to the good-ole US of A. Yee-haa. Let me know if you need a translation of the last bit as it was written in Americanese, which appears to be a whole different language.

That's what you call a flying visit but without the bomb drop and resultant friendly-fire casualties and dead wedding guests.

Naturally, coming all that way meant he was going to get a few more strokes than six of the best so I sentenced him to a very reasonable 144, which I'm sure you'll all agree was very fair-minded of me. Not much point comng all this way if I was only going to dance around his bottom with a garden cane and even though I gave him 144, I then gave him another 18 just to make sure he didn't feel denied. Generous to a fault, that's me. I have so much to give and I always like to give where I can.

I love interrogating Americanos too: "Have you come to return our 13 states?" "What did Delaware, boy?" all bring blank responses and an extra six of the best. Americans are so funny and they're all rich, handsome and famous.

Here's a photograph of the American flag but without the obligatory jihadis setting it on fire so if you're of a delicate imposition, Click here and look away now. I guess that's why it's called The Blood Stained Banner.


During a particularly heavy caning with schoolboy William I heard an unmistakeable "splat" behind me. Oh dear. I eventually found what had caused it: a large gobbet of flesh and blood (William's, not mine) spattered on the mirror on the back wall. I might enter it in the Turner Prize for Art as they believe any old rubbish is art. That's some going to hit the bottom so hard that body muscle can fly with such force to stick on the back wall about 10 feet away. Where is Maid Dorer-fee when I need her? Notice I gave the measurement in proper feet and inches, not some meaningless European system; unlike the traitorous BBC.

29 November 2011

Sit up straight and face the front, class.

My poor lovable old Nick has recently developed a kidney stone; I told him how they operate it to remove it but that didn't seem to make him feel any better. So it's off to the local death camp, laughingly called an NHS hospital, to see what can be done to him and what these wags in white coats can poke inside of him. Whenever we visit the local NHS warehouse, we always jump on the back of the motorised buggies that take people around and, for a giggle, pretend we are two dead bodies being transported around the hospital. This always frightens small children and upsets the elderly because they realise their time here on this earth is not long. This is almost as funny as walking around the hospital wearing a white coat, a pair of yellow Marigold gloves covered in blood and a crazed look in the eyes, muttering. You should see the look on patients faces. Laugh? You'd think you'd never dry bedsheets.

When it came to having a catheter fitted, two women doctors started to fit it when Nick came out with the classic line, "I'd have to pay about £100 to have two pretty girls do this to me up the west end". Groan. Cue The Benny Hill Theme. I don't know what he was thinking as it would cost more than £100 to have a double session with two women. Thankfully they didn't take too much offence so they might have been moonlighting doing a bit of Domination anyway; well Doctors are always complaining about the pay and the hours. When Quilp had his gall bladder removed I turned it into a rather unusual mouth gag, you might have worn it, but these stones are a little bit small to do anything with so I might have to use them in a ball-bearing gun to shoot at someone's testicles.

That's Entertainment

All right, we've got rid of another mad despot and replaced him with God knows what for an alternative form of government. It's funny how they want our help and armed forces to get rid of their tin-pot dicators and then they replace them not with liberal democracy as our naive weasel politicians hoped for but some form of twelfth century sharia law. There's gratitude for you. I don't quite understand why we had to get involved but this is obviously better for us apparently although I can't see how installing anti-western Taliban regimes all along North Africa helps anyone. I hope no-one's booked a holiday in Sharm-el-Shiek for 2012; lying on the beach might now get you 50 lashes and your wife stoned in the local football stadium once the men in grey skirts have taken over; no wonder the holidays are going cheap. What we need is professional hoyden Harriet Harpic out there jolly well giving them what for and hectoring these goat-buggerers on the merits of equality. A bit too dangerous for you, is it Hattie? Oh well, you'd better put the dust sheets back on girls, shut up and make the tea.

Which one do you think we'll depose next? We've already done Iraq, Afghani Stan and now the People's Jambalaya of Libya. Third world war? It's already started, just a shame they're too daft to realise it; we're already 3-0 up. But why don't we present it as a reality TV show? That way the "Not In My Name" lunatics won't be able to complain; it'd make great entertainment, especially on Saturday evenings after the Christmas festivities as there's hardly anything on telly then. "Dial 01 to nuke Iran; dial 02 to invade Rhodesia; dial 03 to drone-bomb some British-born jihadis hiding out on the Pakistani border" Who wouldn't pay to watch that? And it could be interspersed with video footage of Oz bin Laden being executed by US Navy Seals, although I've already got that as a screen-saver.

Or make them dance on Strictly! Even better. Prezdent Ama-Dimwit-Jihadi of Iran, you're partnered with national treasure and camp gay icon Russell Grant doing the Cha-cha-cha; Sir Bob Mugabe - you're dancing with pantomime dame and ex-politician Anne "Widdy" Widdecombe dancing the Quickstep. Any Gaddafi's left? You'll be dancing at the end of a rope. I can't wait to see the look on Ama-Dimwit-Jehadi's face when Craig calls him, "Darh-ling" and Bruno makes suggestive remarks about the size of his feet. Don't forget to vote for your favourite as the loser will be leaving the programme and Nato forces will bomb their country.

Living In A Box

As my favourite children's character Noddy has shouted every year since 1972, "It's Christmas". Well it's nearly Christmas. But what to do about Christmas presents? Time passes and you don't want to leave it all to the last minute, do you? Ian always took me Christmas shopping but since his death I haven't had the pleasure of his bottomless wallet, and with us pouring his ashes into the River Dart at Totnes, he's now probably in the bottom of some mad-woman's water filter right now, which is good because Ian always liked being useful in the kitchen.

Luckily, I've already done most of my shopping earlier this month. I went around the right-on "We Are All Hamas" anti-capitalist camp outside St Paul's late one night when most of the smug middle-class liberals had gone back home or booked into a hotel for the night. I take it they do realise they're all being supported by a capitalist system, do they? Anyway, it's a bit like the looting we had in the summer only this time it's the self-satisfied Guardian reading lefties who are being robbed while the police turn a blind eye and keep their distance. You can pick up some amazing items in the camp like benefit cheques, sleeping bags, tents, electronic goods, etc. You can cash the benefit cheques and treat yourself to a slap-up meal at the Savoy (is this the idea behind Groupon?). Well some of these protesters get a wealth of benefits once they have a couple of kids and claim they can't work because they're lame, sick and weary. No wonder they're all complaining about HMG capping their "earnings" at £500 a week, they're going to lose a fortune.

If you go during the day, you need to wait until they all pop off to the local cafes and brasseries to fill up on some honest-to-goodness working class fare like a bean curd and halloumi quiche with a bottle of free-trade Chablis. Then you can have your pick of all the electronic goods left lying around inside the tents. If you find their address, I would suggest you sell this to the charity "Romanian Squatters R Us" as they're always looking for vacant properties and as the people in Tent City have left their homes empty, it'll serve them right. No need to worry about the Mad Madhi of Canterbury and his disciples as they're all busy scrubbing the fecal matter out of the transepts. If you do try this, don't drink anything because I know Quilp and his taxi driver mates go there in the early hours and urinate in their juice bottles.

Anyway, Quilp gave me the idea for this because he told me when he used to go to Rock Festivals in the 70s, he and his mates never took a tent. They would wait for a couple of doorknobs to pitch their tent then go off for a lentil burger stew or something then Quilp and his friends would take it all down and pitch it somewhere else and claim it was theirs. If you were one of the doorknobs on the Isle Of Wight, don't blame me.

Bottom Of The Class

If ever there was a need for strict discipline and punishment in this country you need look no further than the lack-wit buglar who was made to write a letter of "remores", as he laughingly put it, to his victim rather than go to gaol. What on earth was the judge thinking, letting him off? The idiot needs a damned good thrashing, that should wake his ideas up. As for the buglar, his written English and grammar were appalling but instead of a judicial punishment he richly deserved he probably received a free holiday at the seaside.

You see, this is why you should never bully the unpopular classroom swot who doesn't have any friends. They loathe you for not being their friend, invariably bury their heads into books and grow up to become judges with a grudge against the rest of society (or they become lonely serial killers). How else can you explain why these High Court imbeciles make judgements which defy belief and lack any common sense.

As for the illiterate thief, surely a seven year spell in Strangeways Prison being used as a sex toy by other inmates would have been more beneficial than being humiliated over his poor grasp of spelling in front of the entire country? I know which one I would have sentenced him to.

And who is to blame for this uneducated and ignorant dunce? Didn't he attend the local comprehensive to receive his education, education, education, innit? Surely his form teacher beat some sense into him when he realised he was dealing with an illiterate dunderheaded pupil? Wasn't he made to stand in the corner with a conical hat on his head while his class-mates laughed at him? No! teachers are no longer allowed to discipline and humiliate even the dullest of the pupils these days because "it's unkind and would hurt their self-pride". I thought that was the idea of school. Anyway, teachers are all too busy attending union meetings to destroy capitalism, spreading the gospel of "climate change" and giving sex lessons to the infants. Mmmm, is everyone certain we want these people in loco parentis? So it's great news all these grubby Marxists are going on strike so your children might have a chance of some serious studying and grow up to take their revenge on society. But most probably you'll be shelling out for a season ticket to a local HM Prison and complaining to anyone who'll listen why your son is undergoing sex-change surgery.

Letters From America

Well two emails actually from America this week. One from Steven of Ohio who thanked me for giving him a thrashing - or Happy Thanksgiving as he termed it. And also good news from Axyloid who appears to have been let out of prison on probation. You see, lobotomies can work. I'll give it until Christmas before he's caught tied up in some woman's wardrobe.

A Christmas Carol

Silent Night? That's because I've got Quilp securely trussed up like a turkey with a ball gag in his mouth and a large butt-plug up his bottom. At least, that's where I hope I put them; still I can always change them over if I've put them in the wrong way round. This is what they must mean by forcemeat stuffing.

Yes, it's Christmas again and I wonder what I'll find in my Christmas stockings this year, probably lots of presents when all I want is peace on earth and goodwill to all men. That's if my friend S'man'fa isn't dressed up in my underwear and wearing my stockings. Oh well, I'll just have to settle for all the presents instead. Gimme.

I always enjoy a good book and I see a mistress has written a book on her life as a Dominatrix so no doubt someone will buy me that under the impression that I'll want to read about the same things I do everyday; or maybe because they think I need some tips. I did note that she claimed a number of the people who visited her were MPs and footballers so obviously a high class clientele. Personally I wouldn't recognise an MP unless they were some form of famous MP and even then...; but if someone did come knocking on my door and told me they were an MP then, like most reasonable people, I'd set the dogs on them.

Although it's fair to say I do correspond with a number of high-powered, influential people and they are all so generous. I'm always receiving emails from the UN Ambasadoor to Washington, Mr Samuel Fong and Dr Waziri High Comissonar to EU and any number of Nigerian Finance Ministers all with important messages for me and they're so desperate to give me money. I'm just amazed at how stupid these people are who reach high office if they think I'm stupid to believe them. A word of advice Mr Ambasadoor (sic) I live in the UK where we are well used to fork-tongued politicians and finance experts lying to us and trying to take our money under false pretences.

Ah, but Christmas is not about taking, it's all about giving; so make sure what you give me is something of value otherwise make sure you keep the receipt so I can exchange it for store credit. But I like to give too: short shrift, an extra six of the best, a dirty look, a slap in the face, a piece of my mind, whatever. Oh good, carol singers, singing the first line of "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" repeatedly; let me go and give them something for their trouble.

A Christmas Card

This is my Christmas card to you all even if you're some multi-culti outraged liberal who has to pretend you don't enjoy Christmas in case you offend someone who couldn't care less. May your Christmas lunch be as miserable and lacking in festive spirit as your equality obsessed and politically correct eco lifestyle.

A Christmas Lunch

Lunch with Michelle! It must be nearly 10 years since I last caned my niece's bare bottom so it was a surprise when Michelle rang up and invited me out to lunch the other week; I've obviously been forgiven for the dreadful canings I gave her in the late 90s. She used to dress like a schoolgirl and I used to make her stand on a chair and recite her 9 times table, with the obligatory beating afterwards; much to the amusement of other club-goers. Even so, after nearly two bottles of wine each, I did manage to pull his trousers down in the middle of Borough High Street in an attempt to give him a damned good spanking but he broke free and ran off. I then, somehow, managed to bite his tongue when I caught up with him.

I suppose the likes of you will be dining on a double chimpanzee burger with cheese and fries at the local halal takeaway this Christmas so spare a thought for me as I'll have to cook a full turkey, ham joint, roast taters, roast parsnips, peas, two different types of stuffing, steam the Christmas pudding and serve up chicken parfait with truffles for starters. All swilled down with a couple of gallons of Sancerre. It's a hard life without any servants to prepare and wash up afterwards but I've had to give Quilp time off to be with his family on Christmas Day; I told him he was selfish to have a family.

A Christmas Party

This year we can all enjoy a good old-fashioned knees-up without the disagreeable Nick and Angela and all their subject peoples spoiling the fun. About time the PM got himself a spinal transplant and told the neighbours from hell to take a running jump; they're always trying to cadge money off us. Ohhh, 26 of them to 1 of us; I suppose they think we're all scared of what they'll do to us. Well they're the sort of odds that bring out the best in us and we should soon see off yet another attempt by the continentals to over-run us. Make it the best of five, is it Ange?

I know, you've all seen the mock-up of Ange in a Gestapo uniform and felt a little tremble but believe me, it's a bit like watching your mother come on to your best friend. But this will be great for us because once the euro is worth about 5p, we'll be able to go over to Europe and buy almost anything for a couple of bob. You could buy a couple of girls to make out with your best friend to stop you thinking of your mother.

No doubt mad Auntie Beeb and her illigitimate son Clegg, will be knocking on the front door to demand entrance so they can spoil everybody's fun and piously lecture anyone and everyone on why we should surrender to Europe, the perils of global warming and the evils of the British Empire and why the US is to blame for everything. Pretend we're not in and don't answer the door.

I'll give it until February before our Quisling government sells us out for a bag of magic beans, or Euros.

Now class, here's your homework for you while you're at home enjoying the Christmas holidays and wrapping my Christmas presents. And none of that partridge in a pear tree rubbish either, just the five gold rings.

Q. The school bully has twice tried to take your dinner money off you but on both occasions you have given him a damned good hiding. Now, he and his gang are threatening you again.

Do you:

a. Join his gang, hoping he won't hit you too hard but will only take your trousers down in public and humiliatingly spank you in front of his mates but will leave you with your bus-fare to get home?

b. Run home crying your eyes out and ask your Uncle Sam to fend them off while you furtively dress up in your sister's clothes?

c. Stand up to them all and give them all another good hiding?

Six of the best for any pupil who gives an incorrect answer; 36 of the best for those pupils who give the correct answer.

Class dismissed.

Old things here