Friday, 30 November 2007
I laminated the enchanted forest for doctor Finlay, at school. I even included a couple of unicorns and butterflies, but I hid them away. behind a canvass. It's up to him, if he wants to discover their treasures.
Thursday, 29 November 2007
Click on box above to watch short video clip. Warning have a stiff drink to hand, it's a rather heavy one and don't have the volume on too loud, coz it might break your glass and all the windows in your house.
Two large quotes from the Spectator.
Labour’s failure to turn this into social cohesion is their biggest failure, and the Conservatives biggest opportunity. This is the “broken society” agenda – Cameron’s most powerful weapon. And Brown will never follow this, because he will never accept British society is broken.
A combination of the Thatcher reforms and the decade-long Blair–Brown duumvirate has achieved what was once deemed impossible:
During the Blair–Brown decade social concerns — what kind of society we have become — have gradually replaced economic worries. People fear that we have become an increasingly fragmented, boorish, more violent society. The new barbarism of the Broken Society stalks not just the dilapidated parts of our inner cities but the high streets of once placid market towns.
Of course, the social trends which are now defining us started long before Mr Blair entered
Britain may or may not be blighted by a feral media but many people are in no doubt, as this week’s survey from Barnardo’s reveals, that we are blighted by a feral youth, often financed and fuelled by drugs, which is out of control and beyond the law. Every day brings fresh horror stories from the frontline of the Broken Society: teenagers are shot in their beds in gangland tit-for-tat killings; a youth is chased through the streets of
That the underclass exists cannot now be doubted by those with eyes to see, though some fashionable opinion-formers still try to wish it away. Nor is it necessarily poor: quite often the underclass is reasonably cash-rich, thanks to welfare benefits, crime and the black economy; but it is increasingly severed, in attitude and cultural values, from the rest of society. And (another popular misconception) it has very little in common with even the most deprived of the old working class: the underclass does not form brass bands, go to night school or strive to find the best state schools for their children.
So far our response to a growing underclass has been containment: it has been herded into reservations we call sink estates, where the rest of us hope it will stay out of sight and out of mind. Its members speak their own variants of English (now well enough recognised for comedians to mock), wear their own style of clothes (which middle-class kids sometimes copy) and have no respect for the police or the laws that bind the rest of us. Nor do they have much regard for the world of work or educational achievement: traditional values such as thrift, endeavour and marriage are alien.
Most children of the underclass are born out of wedlock; relationships are fleeting and unstable (which ensures that what is born into the underclass stays in the underclass). This is a world in which there are almost no worthwhile male role models, which is a disaster when boys turn to youths. Single mums struggle to cope as best they can — and usually lose control of their kids, especially if they are boys, when they become teenagers. With sad, depressing predictability, the children of today’s underclass become tomorrow’s criminals and dropouts.
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
Notes in red are from the blog Dirty European Socialist.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Congratulations Mr Blair, the Oxbridge conspiracy and to the Tories you have won the next election by a landslide. 14 points in the lead in the last opinion view in the independent. You have ousted the first non Oxbridge partnership as Chancellor and PM since WW2. It took a few weeks of hysteria. We have all learnt who runs the country. The English people have spoken they are subservient to you. And you will get your people, and your people only back into office again and again and again. You must be proud.
Somehow you managed to blame Northern Rock on labour. Yes a private bank going out of business is all the fault of the government, despite the fact that economic growth is still strong. Your hysteria has worked.
Then Mr Blair's army buddies gave a death blow to the government. The same army bosses who never even squeaked Blair was in office decided it was time to say what a terrible government we had. Thanks for that Mr Blair. Thanks for killing our government. Oh we soooooo Miss you. You petty vindictive man.
Well done you tories have won the government is dead. You have won. Most of you bloggers didn't go to oxbridge. so you are looked on with the same contempt this present government is looked on by the establishment of Oxbridge big business conspirators. Why do you love the establishment so much?
Do you think they will give you something?
Poor misguided idealistic fools I pity you.
Well done you have won. Your utopia that the tories will bring is just around the corner.
Bloody hell mate, get a grip, will you? Next you'll be telling us that Cherie Blair-Booth, that hghly paid working class, barrister QC woman from working class Bury, a hundred million miles away from twee Oxbridge, kidnapped the bloody Boswell aliens. Lar dee bloody dar.
Mind you perhaps there is some truth in this conspiracy theory business. If you read Cherie Booth's Wikpedia entry it states the following:
Could be bollocks of course, it probably is.
Monday, 26 November 2007
Saturday, 24 November 2007
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man.
Thursday, 22 November 2007
le fait que mon iceberg n'a pas changé beaucoup.
Alors il a précisé à moi…
DF : Bien, réellement le chat, votre iceberg sanglant fond.
DSBJ : Non ! Aucune manière !
DF : Regarder ! Le regarder ! Il a un trou sanglant, droite au milieu de lui.
Il avait raison, mon ami, Cappo-Zadee, l'iceberg, avait commencé à fondre. Je ne sais pas ce que je vais faire à son sujet. Le docteur a dit….
DF : C'est un signe clair que Cappo-Zadee, votre iceberg, est préoccupé au sujet de quelque chose.
J'ai frotté mon menton et ai considéré pour un instant au-dessus de l'analyse du docteur. Si, je pensais à me Cappo-Zadee est déprimé, comment l'enfer sont nous allant le traiter. Est non seulement il un iceberg, il est également beaucoup de milliers sur des milliers de milles de distance, dans le Pôle Nord.
Curieux, j'ai regardé sur le google et ai introduit au clavier le suivant « comment traiter la dépression d'iceberg ». Il n'y avait rien. J'ai secoué ma tête dans l'incrédulité.
DF : Ceci ne semble pas bon. Je pense ce chat, vous dois faire face à des faits. Cappo-Zadee va fondre. J'ai regardé dans mon sac des tours du docteur, et il n'y a rien. Vous faites mieux l'appel.
Le docteur m'a remis le téléphone. J'ai sonné Cappo-Zadee et ai cassé les nouvelles à lui.
DSBJ : Regarder, me considérer, regarder dans mes yeux.
Iceberg (Cappo Zadee) : Je ne peux pas, je suis dans le Pôle Nord et vous êtes dans Hackney, ainsi, je ne pouvez pas vous regarder. Sur celui je n'ai aucun oeil. Je ne peux réellement voir rien. Est je sens juste le froid toute l'heure, cela ce que je fais, froid de sentir, congelé, comme le gel de Jack, seulement plus froid. En fait je même ne sais pas ou ne comprends pas pour cette matière je peux te parler.
Je n'ai aucun organe interne et je certainement n'ai une bouche, ou aucune dent. C'est pourquoi je ne peux pas manger ces pingouins hybrides ennuyeux. S'occuper de toi, si je faisais j'obstruerais probablement à la mort - petits baiseurs antisociaux sanglants. Je ne sais pas pourquoi les gens disent qu'ils sont mignons, coz qu'ils ne sont pas. Pendant que bientôt les appareils-photo et les touristes disparaissent, ils fouettent dehors leurs paquets des sèches, centaines d'elles soufflant loin sur leur Marlboro.
Je suis malade de ces petits bâtards, ils continuent à sauter sur moi et à pooing partout. Et, l'autre chose que vous ne connaissez pas eux, est leur boire de binge. Ils boivent les locataires sanglants dans l'intéret de dieux. Ainsi, là je suis, se reposant comme un berk total, je veux dire l'iceberg, et ces petits bâtards ennuyeux, environ cinq cents des baiseurs, sont reposés là, pissé hors de leurs têtes minuscules de pingouin, sur des locataires. Je ne peux pas prendre davantage de cette merde. Je suis un iceberg de saignement, pas un Wetherspoons visqueux. Je ne pourrais pas avoir les dispositifs humains mais j'aime le reste de moi être propre et rangé et sans merde de pingouin ou être tracassé par leur comportement antisocial.
DSBJ : Est-ce que c'est pourquoi vous fondez parce que vous êtes déprimé ?
Cappo-Zadee : Pas, je suis saignement fondant parce que ces baiseurs n'éteignent pas leurs extrémités de sèche correctement, il est ces baiseurs qui me font la fonte.
Cliquer dessus le lien ci-dessous.
Alla Pugacheva - Iceberg (Айсберг)
DSBJ: いいえ! とんでもない!
DF: 見なさい! それを見なさい! それは血の穴、それの真中の権利を持っている。
彼は権利、私の友人、Cappo-Zadeeの氷山、溶け始めただった。 私は私がそれについてしようと思っているものを知らない。 医者は言った….
私は私の顎を摩擦し、医者の分析をちょっとの間熟考した。 、私が自分自身に考えたらCappo-Zadeeは地獄が彼を扱うことを行っている私達いかにであるか、落ち込んでいる。 彼はまた氷山、彼である北極の何千マイルも離れたところで多くのたくさん、であるただ。
好奇心が強い、私はgoogleで見、次で「氷山の不況」を治す方法をタイプした。 何もなかった。 私は私の頭部を信じられない様子で揺すった。
DF: これはよく見ない。 私はその猫、事実に直面しなければならない考える。 Cappo-Zadeeは溶ける行っている。 私は医者のトリックの私の袋を見、何もない。 よりよく呼出しをする。
氷 山(Cappo Zadee): 私は北極に、私いるできないし、Hackneyに、そう、私見ることができないある。 それの上に私に目がない。 私は実際に何でも見ることができない。 私はちょうど風邪を、それ私がすることである、より冷たいだけジャック霜のように、凍っている感じの風邪いつも感じる。 実際は私は知らないし、私があなたに話せるいかにをかその点では理解しない。
私は内臓を有しないし、確かに口、か歯がない。 そういうわけで私はそれらの悩む擬似のペンギンを食べることができない。 断っておくが、私は死-血の反社会的で小さいfuckersにおそらく窒息する。 私はかわいいと人々が、によってないcozなぜ言うか知らない。 すぐにカメラおよびツーリストが行くと同時に、たばこ、何百の包みをものMarlboroで吹くそれら打つ。
私はそれらの小さい粗悪品の 病人である、それらは私の上に跳び、どこでもpooing続ける。 そして、あなたがそれらについて、であるどんちゃん騒ぎの飲むこと知らない他の事。 彼らは神の為のための血の借用者を飲む。 従って、そこに私はあり、総berkのように坐る、私は氷山を意味し、それらの悩む小さい粗悪品、fuckersの約500は借用者で、彼らの小さいペン ギンの頭部から怒らせられて、そこに置かれる。 私はこのたわごとのもう取ることができない。 私は出血の氷山、ない粘着性のWetherspoonsである。 私は人間の特徴を持たないかもしれないが、私のきれい、整頓されるそしてペンギンのがらくたのない残りがまたは反社会的な行動によって迷惑を掛けられるの を好む。
Alla Pugacheva - Iceberg (Айсберг)
Then he pointed out to me ...
DF: Well, actually Cat, your bloody ice-berg is melting.
DSBJ: No! No way!
DF: Look! Look at it! It's got a bloody hole, right in the middle of it.
He was right, my friend, Cappo-Zadee, the ice-berg, had started to melt. I don't know what I am going to do about it. The doctor said ....
DF: This is a clear sign that Cappo-Zadee, your ice-berg, is troubled about something.
I rubbed my chin and pondered for a moment over the doctor's analysis. If, I thought to myself Cappo-Zadee is depressed, how the hell are we going to treat him. Not only is he an ice-berg, he is also many thousands upon thousands of miles away, in the North Pole.
Curious, I looked on google and typed in the following 'how to cure ice-berg depression'. There was nothing. I shook my head in disbelief.
DF: This does not look good. I think that Cat, you have to face facts. Cappo-Zadee is going to melt. I have looked in my bag of doctor's tricks, and there's nothing. You better make the call.
The doctor handed me the phone. I rang Cappo-Zadee and broke the news to him.
DSBJ: Look, look at me, look into my eyes.
Ice-berg (Cappo Zadee): I can't, I am in the North Pole and you are in Hackney, So, I can't look at you. On top of that I don't have any eyes. I can't actually see anything. I just feel cold all the time, that's what I do, feel cold, frozen, like Jack Frost, only colder. In fact I don't even know or understand for that matter how I am able to talk to you.
I have no internal organs and I certainly don't have a mouth, or any teeth. That's why I can't eat those annoying bastard penguins. Mind you, if I did I'd probably choke to death - bloody anti-social little fuckers. I don't know why people say that they are cute, coz they ain't. As soon the cameras and tourists go, they whip out their packets of fags, hundreds of them puffing away on their Marlboro's.
I am sick of those little bastards, they keep jumping on top of me and pooing everywhere. And, the other thing you don't know about them, is their binge drinking. They drink bloody Tenants for gods sake. So, there I am, sitting like a total berk, I mean berg, and those annoying little bastards, about five hundred of the fuckers, are sat there, pissed out of their tiny penguin heads, on Tenants. I can't take any more of this shit. I am a bleeding ice-berg, not a tacky Wetherspoons. I might not have human features but I do like the rest of me to be clean and tidy and without penguin crap or be bothered by their anti-social behaviour.
DSBJ: Is that why you're melting because you're depressed?
Cappo-Zadee: No, I am bleeding melting because those fuckers don't put their fag ends out properly, it's those fuckers that are making me melt.
Click on link below.
Alla Pugacheva - Iceberg (Айсберг)
Saturday, 17 November 2007
I absolutely adore this woman's art work, I really, really do. If I had the dough I would buy one of her paintings. They do look more like sculptures, but they're not, they are actually paintings.
Thank you Boo, I love your work.
Thursday, 8 November 2007
The one thing to do- T.S. Eliot
Is to do nothing. Wait.
You will find that you survive humiliation.
And that’s an experience of incalculable value.
Why are you laughing?
Crowd: Because you’re from Benidorm, that’s why.
Dickhead (me): Given the current climate with tension growing in relations with both radical Islamism ……….
I think it’s important to follow your instincts, gut feelings whatever you want to call them, like last night. I should NOT have attended the Freedom Association’s event, entitled, "The Munich Pact 1938: Was Appeasing Hitler Sensible?" My gut feeling was telling me to go home and watch my favourite soap,
At the event, after Graham had finished his talk, the floor was open to questions or comments. I stood up and tried to make a comparison with what Graham was talking about and relate it to some of my experiences in Hackney, where I have witnessed first hand Islamic fundamentalism, in my own classroom in fact. Some of the kids I teach have expressed anti-Semitic, anti-American, anti-British views and I have not really known how to deal with it. They don’t give you training on this at teacher training college. Some of the kids I teach have clearly been indoctrinated by fundamentalist parents, which makes you wonder why on earth their parents have sent them to a Church of England School.
My attempts at articulating my points on this issue were greeted with gales of laughter from the majority of people present, at the event, which I did not appreciate. So I asked them, ‘Why are you all laughing, it’s not funny?’ This was met with further out pours of laughter. I felt like a total dickhead.
I won’t be going back to any further events organised at the Old Bank. I wasn’t drunk and I wasn’t even that inarticulate, I thought I made reasonable and valid points, but everyone else clearly thought that what I was saying was pants.
So, I re-read the invitation I received and this is part of what it said
Our speaker will be Graham Stewart, history columnist on The Times and author of several books regarding historical political figures. Graham's subject will be "The
He will discuss both the diplomatic background and the military situation to assess whether Neville Chamberlain squandered an opportunity to defeat
Given the current climate with tension growing in relations with both radical Islamism and
So, I was right to talk about my experiences, they were relevant.
You know what, fuck the lot of them. I won't be going back, next time I'll stay at home and watch Coronation Street, it's safer that way.
I was just glad that the doctor turned up at the end. I was burning up inside with anger.
Sunday, 4 November 2007
You are missed in Tottenham. We never had a chance to say goodbye. Will you and your girlfriend be coming to the dinner on Turnpike Lane? The one that Justin has organised, the Grahame Stuart one.
If you can't make that, then there is always Justin's coffee morning, in a few weeks time.
See you there.
Thursday, 1 November 2007
He tried to persuade me to take his pistol into school, this morning, because things are getting a little out of hand there. The kids are insane, verging on, well they're a bunch of feral nutters. He said, I should use it, obviously as a last resort and in self-defence. I just told him to put it away. I insisted in fact, that he put it back, into his filing cabinet.
File it away, now.
DF: What should I file it under?
I don't know. I am not a secretary.
DF: I implore you, please, take this pistol.
I don't know how to use it. Is it loaded?
DF: No, no it's not loaded.
Not sure I can do this.
DF: Look it will be an act of self-defence. You need it Janet. I implore you. Don't worry it's not loaded right now.
Okay, how do I load it up?
DF: Just go to a sink, any sink. Take the nozzle off the top, look (shows me the gun) and fill it up with cold water, and then squirt.
So, it's a water pistol?
DF: Of course it's a bloody water pistol. What do you think I am, a frigging psychopath? I am a doctor, I try to preserve life, not take it away.
But, I don't want to get wet.
DF: You don't have to. My ex-wife left a wet suit in the attic, you can wear that.
Knock at the front door.
DF: Who the hell is that? My God, it's half past five in the morning.
Shit, you don't think we've disturbed the neighbours, do you?
DF: It's possible.
DF goes to the front door and opens it, he is completely gobsmacked at what he sees.
Boo Ritson: Hi, can I come in please?
Me: Who are you?
Boo Ritson: I am the artist Boo Ritson.
DF: What do you want?
Boo Ritson: I want my painting back.
Me: What painting?
Boo Ritson: The one you're using on your blog, and pretending that it's you and doctor Finlay. I want it back now, please.
DF: I think perhaps I'll go and put some clothes on, although I am sure you've seen this sort of thing before, being an artist and all that.
Boo Ritson: So can I have my painting back now, please?
Me: Sure. I'll just get dressed first though. How would you like it?
Boo Ritson: Well, I don't want it wrapped up, I'll just take it as it is now.
Me: Okay, well if you walk down the corridor, it's in the room right at the end, on the right hand side.
Boo Ritson: Thanks.
I won't tell you about either my Wednesday or Thursday, in Hackney - but what I will say is that I need the following:
Anyway, Louise is a bonnie wee lassie, as sweet as the heather on the hills.