February « 2010 « The Daily Moaner

February 28, 2010

Drunk in Charge of a Collie

Filed under: Uncategorized — lenko @ 2:52 pm

Jesus Christ All-bloody-Mighty!

Our Nanny state is now extending its tentacles to walking the dog. Many a time your editor has been out late evenings, drunk in charge of a collie. Now a leaked document reveals Government proposals to force dog owners to take a “costly” competence test, and buy third-party insurance.

They would also have to pay for a microchip to be inserted recording the dog’s name and address, National Insurance number, bank details, paw prints, details of the animal’s sexual orientation and their political persuasion. All in the name of stopping them from biting the postman.

Well why not? It’s not as if the nation has any other problems right now. The economy is sorted, the various wars all won, racial tensions abated, poverty eliminated and the entire populace happy and content. Yes, let’s allocate some taxpayer-funded resources to our canine friends. Will there be a special multimillion pound quango appointed, do you think?

But it goes deeper than this. The Daily Moaner can reveal that there are sinister plans to extend the scheme to domestic cats (believed to kill thousands of other animals every night), hamsters, gerbils and “miscellaneous small animals less than 40mm in length, that can be kept in a matchbox “.

And this programme will continue indefinitely until Gordon Brown is in control of every life-form on the planet. And after that –

Space — the Final Frontier…

Comments (0)

Whinge of the Week

Filed under: British Politics,Famous Wankers — Tags: Politics — lenko @ 1:04 pm

A bad start to Sunday — the promised deluge zooming North from France has failed to arrive, at least in the Daily Moaner’s area. Now we are sworn to go outdoors and dig our hands into the soil. This is anathema to your manly editor at the best of times, gardening being a girlie sort of hobby, even more so in the cold.

Worse was the sight of Peter Hain appearing on the Andrew Marr show, something to turn the stomach of any right-thinking person. What a smug, loathsome, weaselly windbag this man is ! Though all politicians are these days, as it goes with the job.

Hain is incapable of answering a straight question with a straight answer, and never uses a short statement where five hundreds words will suffice. He is impossible to cut short, the result being that he and Marr spent most of the interview talking over each other, so that neither could be understood, leaving the viewer to scream at the TV. That’s what we did, anyway.

Hain has never risen to high office in his almost twenty years in politics, Secretary of State being his highest attainment. Both Bliar and Brown seem to have regarded him as a political odd-job man. He has been Minister for Africa, SoS for Ireland and SoS for Wales, all of them places of exile for useless politicians in years gone by.

Since leaving full-time education, he has worked almost exclusively in politics, never having done a proper day’s work in his life. But this applies to most of the current Cabinet. Straw, Balls, both Milibands, etc etc… all professional spongers. None of them with any real experience of life. All of them well cushioned for life beyond Parliament.

There was a bit of unpleasantness in 2008, when some people thought that £103,000 of Mr Hain’s campaign contributions hadn’t been declared. The Met investigated and then referred the case to the CPS, so you might have thought that there was something to it. But luckily, the CPS found an excuse reason not to prosecute, and made the whole thing just… go away!

So that’s all right, then!

Comments (0)

February 27, 2010

Slog

Filed under: Uncategorized — lenko @ 8:37 pm

One of the best political blogs around is John Ward’s The Slog. Not only does it report a lot of sense, but it has a wonderfully restful background colour. And it is very often correct with its advance intelligence.

Good design with good writing. Even the commenters are sensible… well, sometimes. You can read it here. We have just added it to our blogroll.

Currently it’s reporting that Gordon is now admitting that relations with Alistair Darling are “difficult”. And that Darling is thinking that “That man has got to go.” It’s just like Brad and Angelina. Who would have thought? Read it for yourself here.

According to the Slog’s sources, A Labour insider has said that if they should win the election, the first task would be getting shot of Gordon. Exactly the same task to be done if they lose the election!

Comments (0)

Doorstep Challenge

Filed under: Uncategorized — lenko @ 7:55 pm

Whilst posting our Wanker of the Year item below, on the wit and wisdom of Nigel Farage, your always illeistic editor (look it up!) was alerted by the butler to a visitor at the main door to the East Wing. It turned out to be Mr Chris Skidmore, the Conservative candidate for the district.

A pleasant conversation was had on the doorstep, during which Mr Skidmore learned of the Daily Moaner’s basic beliefs; namely, that all power-seekers are in it for themselves and what they can get out of it. Chris Skidmore was far too polite to deny this.

Likewise, when asked about the huge and ghastly Cameron poster and its resemblance to Chairman Mao’s (see here), he didn’t venture an opinion. Though he did agree with your editor’s restrained and considered opinion that Farage was a complete and utter wanker. Such political nous in one so young…

We cannot tell, of course, whether Mr Skidmore is a demon from the sixth circle of hell. Much too early for that. There was no discernable hint of brimstone. He cast a shadow, which many politicians are unable to do. He seemed a nice bloke. But then, so did Tony, after we’d had ”thirteen years of Conservative misrule.”

And in the bumf leaflet which he kindly left, he promises he will never abuse the voters’ trust, never claiming for food, furniture or household goods, and not making a profit with our money.

But then, they all say that…

Comments (0)

Wanker of the Year

Filed under: European Madness,Famous Wankers — Tags: Politics — lenko @ 3:47 pm

This afternoon your editor was checking the Wikipedia entry on Nigel Farage, and was surprised to read the following:

Nigel Paul Farage (born 3 April 1964) is a British politician, and former leader of the United Kingdom Independence Party (UKIP). He is also a member of the European Parliament for the South East. He co-chairs the European Parliament’s Europe of Freedom and Democracy group. He is also a wanker. (Bold type ours)

Such accuracy from Wikipedia is only to be praised, though within minutes the offending sentence was gone.

Farage, Mouth Akimbo

Though it is only February, the Daily Moaner feels confident enough to nominate UKIP’s leader as our Wanker of the Year. Particularly after Farage had stood up in the European Parliament, mouth akimbo as usual, and showered gratuitous insults over the mild-mannered Herman van Rompuy. first President of the European Council. Mr Farage would do well to remember that Clark Kent aka Superman was also self-effacing and mild-mannered.

He might also remember that van Rompuy was elected by the Anyone-But-Tony faction.

It was the needlessness of his attack which surprised, using the type of comments that the man in the pub might utter. There was no need to declare that “no-one knows who you are.” There was no need to taunt Mr Rompuy as looking “like a low grade bank clerk”. There was no need to insult Belgium as a “non-country”. All this was just to grab a few headlines. Or possibly it was Farage’s time of the month.

UKIP Meeting

Mr Farage himself has the shifty look of a slightly bent stockbroker, and his mouth works with the up-and-down motion of a second-hand ventriloquists doll. Whose hand is up his backside working him is not known. He has all the loud-mouthed arrogance of a bully. But we wouldn’t dream of saying so…

You might very well think that he is the yob with the gob. We couldn’t possibly comment.

Comments (0)

February 25, 2010

Spanish for Nannies

Filed under: Languages,Videos — Tags: Languages, Videos — lenko @ 1:36 pm

In its continuing struggle to improve the quality of its readership, the Daily Moaner’s languages department brings to you — Spanish for Nannies, featuring the words and phrases that totally horrible, arrogant and patronising American ladies really need to know.

Comments (0)

February 22, 2010

Much Ado About a Storm in a Teacup

Filed under: British Politics,Fantasy — Tags: Politics — lenko @ 7:34 pm

Hogwarts, 6.00 pm : More examples of behind-the-scenes bullying in the school are emerging. Davy Miliband, a trainee hairdresser, alleged he had been given a wedgie and a Chinese burn by a headmaster we can name only as G*rd*n.

This headmaster was bigger and heavier and less shaved, and ran off with Davy’s lunch money after the attack. Davy’s ickle lickle bruvver Ed was too afraid to come to his assistance, having wet himself.

Asked about the incident, the assistant headmaster, Lord Mandelbrot, claimed it had never happened, ever, in the five-hundred-year history of the school, and if it had happened, it would only be because it was a vile and vicious plot by the Tory Slytherin gang, and that our reporter could watch it, just bloody watch it son, okay…. okay???

But a local woman, Ms Daisy Duckling, came forward to say she had received literally hundreds dozens several calls of bullying and harassment, including senior teachers being given a dead leg.

The School admin denied the story at first, then denied denying it. A spokeswoman/man/thing said just now that the denied denial was a pack of lies. Probably.

The case continues .

Comments (0)

February 21, 2010

Sex-Trade Shock!

Filed under: Health,Sex — Tags: Sex — lenko @ 12:48 pm

Another report here from the ever-reliable (?) Telegraph… this time from Switzerland, where prostitutes are receiving on-the-job training — no, sorry, strike that — receiving first-aid training in the use of defibrillators. This follows a number of incidents where clients who were… shall we say, under an unusual degree of strain… suffered heart attacks. This is not unknown in the sex-trade, and in German is known as liebentot — love death. Isn’t that nice?

The Daily Moaner applauds this Swiss Health and Safety measure, and reports it solely to tell the following story, from memory. Eric Partridge, well known for his writings on slang and English as she is spoken and written, told the tale of a London street-girl who had taken a customer to her abode.

He subsequently died from a heart attack while she was attending to his needs. It took her some time to wriggle out from under him, and she later found herself up in court, having to explain what had happened.

“Well — ’e gave a great groan,” she said, “And then ‘e lay still. I thought ‘e ‘ad come … but ‘e ‘ad gorn .”

Comments (0)

The Banks That Like to Say “Ker-ching!”

Filed under: British Politics — Tags: Politics — lenko @ 11:48 am

Thirty Pounds, Please

A report in the Telegraph informs us that the Tories are planning a comprehensive cock-up shake-up of the tax system, one in which employers are relieved of the responsibility for calculating PAYE and National Insurance. Instead, your bank would do that, and take the money directly out of your account. They can be trusted to do that, can’t they? Of course they can!

Please don’t all cheer at once .

David Cameron’s party claim that it would save businesses “up to ” £5.5 billion, and increase the Exchequer’s take by £1 billion. Ah yes, the old “up to ” dodge.

Here’s the way the proposed system would most likely work:

HMRC sends your tax code to your bank, who record it against the wrong account.
Three months later, the bank corrects its error, recording the tax code against your account, and calculates three months tax after you have already spent the money.
Your bank transfers the money from your account to a holding account, for onward transmission to HMRC after three days or so, thus gaining the interest on it.
As you are now overdrawn, penalty charges and interest are applied to your bank account. The bank writes to tell you this, and charges you thirty quid for the letter.
After a few months, HMRC sends another (higher) tax code to your bank, which means you get a refund. HMRC sends the refund money to your bank.
Your bank credits the money to their holding account, and hangs on to it for a few days ”just in case”. You write them a letter of protest, and they write back explaining their decision. They charge you another thirty quid for this letter. They now repay the money into your account, less a handling fee.
Just before Christmas, your bank’s computer system malfunctions, sending your whole account balance to HMRC. They apologise in another thirty pound letter. In the same post, they send you a letter regretting that you are now over your overdraft limit, and they will be unable to pay your household bills.
Your creditors apply for your bankruptcy, with the preferred creditor in the proceedings being HMRC, who have been given copies of your bank statements, payslips, etc. HMRC puts all your details on a data-disc, and leaves it on a train. It is sold to the Sun, who prints details of your payments to each of your seven mistresses.
You are found guilty of being poor, and thrown into a debtors prison, until such time as your children can be sold to go up chimneys.
The banks increase their charges to recover the costs of administering the scheme. It comes to £5.5 billion, the same amount as businesses have saved.
The bankers all pay themselves immense bonuses.

Mike Warburton is all in favour of the proposal. Mike Warburton thinks it is high time the creaky old system was replaced by something much more sooper-dooper. Mike Warburton is a tax partner at Grant Thornton, one of the big accountancy firms, who stand to make millions, first by creating a monster cock-up with our wages and bank accounts all in one go, and subsequently by unravelling the mess until it gets worse.

It all makes sense when you look at it from a different point of view.

Comments (0)

February 20, 2010

Uneasy Lies the Head…

Filed under: British Politics,Short Fiction — Tags: Politics — lenko @ 7:45 pm

11.30, and the end of another tedious, landmine filled day at No 10… After meeting upon meeting, they had finally got to bed. Sarah had fallen asleep as he explained for the seventh time exactly why he had chosen not to join the Euro.

Now Gordon huffed grumpily in the half-light as he turned away to face the wall, only to be further put out by the glass eye sitting on the dresser. Unnervingly, it seemed to be glaring at him. But he could not summon up the energy to move it.

In his head, the dates ran around like mice in a maze. March 25th… May 6th… June 3rd… all the way to the wire on June 3rd? All of them death-traps in their own way. Fall on his sword now, or use it to fight another day? Probably best to call it for May 6th, along with the local elections, though Mandelson was texting him every three minutes to do it now .

Everywhere he looked there were pitfalls of policies and personnel. There were the twin girls, as he thought of them, Head-Band and Hair-Band. There was Slippery Jack Straw, the meer-kat of the Cabinet. And his deputy PM, Harriet Hormone, she of the limpid blue Miss Piggy eyes, with her fantasies of becoming a second Thatcher. No chance, thought Gordon. She may as well enter “Strictly Come Dancing”. The glass eye looked amused.

Once, there had been Purnell, who was now jumping ship to “lead a normal life “, whatever that was. Gordon suspected Purnell was going into a self-imposed exile, to be recalled in some future crisis, like de Gaulle.

And always… always… there was that wanker Mandelson, waiting to pounce.

At least he could trust Ed Balls, he thought. Ed surely must be aware that the voters were not going to give the top job to anyone called Balls. The Press would piss themselves laughing. But could he be trusted?

Could any of them? All these bastards sold their allegiance by the kilo, to the highest bidder. Gordon could almost feel the daggers as they pierced his back. Bastards, every one of them, all plotting and planning to –

But he closed off that thought. He had been privy to quite a few plots himself, before Tony went off to suddenly become a multi-millionaire. The glass eye seemed to frown.

He shuddered as he thought of the rounds of interviews to endure in the coming weeks, the questions to be answered with non-answers, the daily bad news to be spun, the children’s heads to be patted. How was he going to survive all the sound-bites and the photoshoots? As if he didn’t know he looked like an Easter Island monolith.

What he needed was a gimmick — but not an obvious gimmick. Not a Number 10 gimmick. Something… unexpected. But nothing occurred to him. Still, he thought, as he struggled to relax, if push came to shove he could always burst into tears again. That seemed to work.

Slipping into a half-sleep, it suddenly came to him. Little Hugo Chavez, over in Venezuela, had been stirring it up in a show of unity with Argentina. Making noises about oil-exploration rights around the Malvinas… the Falklands. That was the magic answer. It had worked for Maggie, it could work for him. The plebs always supported a war-time leader. They would carry him shoulder-high back to Number 10, a hero, a statesman. All it would take was a little stage-managing…

More relaxed now, he jotted a note onto the pad beside the bed. The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was the glass eye. Curious… it was almost as if — but no, it couldn’t have, surely. Could it?

It couldn’t have winked at him.

Comments (0)

Older Posts »