Wiki Leaks – terrorists or just naughty boys?

Much has been made in the last couple of days of Wikileaks leaking a truckload of diplomatic papers. Now leaving aside the fact that if the powers that be hadn’t made a big fuss it would all have blown over without anyone really bothering as the chances are the stuff would be as dull as fuck anyway, is it really all as damaging as some are making out? The Whitehouse is claiming it puts the lives of diplomats in danger and one Republican congressman is demanding that wikileaks be designated a terrorist organisation. But then we all know how much authorities like the word terrorism because it allows them to get stuff banned. So what has actually been said?

Italian Prime Minister is feckless, vain and ineffective – You think? The man is a walking embarrassment to Italy, the very definition of the Oldest Swinger in Town, usually to be found pawing over some inappropriately young beauty that he wouldn’t stand a hope in hell with were he not the Italian Prime Minister. If he spent as much time engaging in Prime Ministerial duties as he does engaging in the hunt for skirt he’d probably have found the secret to world peace by now. As it is, all he’s found is the condom machine in virtually every state headquarters in Europe.

Nicholas Sarkozy of France is thin-skinned and authoritarian – The guy wears Cuban heels because he’s shorter than his wife so the news that he’s thin skinned shouldn’t come as a massive surprise. And let’s be fair here, if you weren’t authoritarian in France then nothing would ever get done because the buggers spend half their lives on strike and the other half planning when they’re going to be on strike.

The Afghan president, Hamid Karzai is extremely weak and susceptible to conspiracy theories – the only reason his country isn’t in complete meltdown is because it’s full of US and european troops. Once they go, it’s going to descend into batshit madness as the warlords re-emerge and battle for supremacy and Karzai has a month tops before he’s bumped off. Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. If Karzai reads this he’s just going to assume it’s another conspiracy to add to the rest

Prince Andrew exhibits ‘rude behaviour’ while abroad – So does his father, it’s probably genetic. And why would anyone be surprised by it anyway? He’s a middle aged lard bucket who spends his time lounging about on yachts chasing inappropriately young and attractive women and not doing any work ever. He hasn’t done anything useful since the Falklands and that was some considerable time ago now. It can’t possibly be a surprise to anyone that Prince Andrew is a cock. Bet the Queen worked it out years ago.

Colonel Gaddafi is strange and travels with a voluptuous blonde nurse – You’re going to struggle to argue that describing Gaddafi as strange is anything other than bang on the money. He’s been barking for years. Not a clue about the nurse but it has to be said that having impressive hooters should not be a bar to a career nursing a mad old dictator so it’s entirely possible.

Robert Mugabe is a crazy old man – There’s nothing more needs saying really, it’s nothing we haven’t all thought. And probably said.

Dimitry Medvedev is Robin to Putin’s batman – Personally I see him more as Emu to Putin’s Rod Hull, a big useless lump of fibre to the slightly sinister and crazy man withhis hand up its arse.

So, all in all the US diplomats have come out of it rather better than expected, they’ve shown insight none of us realised they had and in some cases, quite a good sense of humour. As for calling for Wikileaks to be made a terrorist site, grow up mate. Sometimes when someone makes you look like a twat all you can do is stand up and take a bow with as much grace as you can muster. Running along to teacher to get them expelled just makes you look like the pathetic kid at school who got bogwashed because he couldn’t take a ribbing.

Royal Wedding – what tat would you like see?

In case you were stuck in a cave yesterday or you accidentally went blind and deaf I shall enlighten you to a little talked about fact from the UK – Prince William and his girlfriend Kate are now engaged. It’s wall to wall coverage. Every ruddy channel and radio station is talking about it. Prize for the most pointless bit of journalism must go to Sky News who sent a reporter all the way to Kenya to stand in front of some trees, in the dark and talk about royal engagements because Kenya is where William proposed a month or so ago. I bet their roving reporter is grateful he didn’t pop the question in a public convenience in Piccadilly Gardens or she’d be spending the next week sniffing in bleach, piss and tramps. Why do we need her to report from Kenya? I’ve seen David Attenborough programmes, I know what African Plains look like. And it’s not like someone has put up a plaque. Yet.

Yesterday the newly engaged couple did an interview and I couldn’t help but wonder what they’ve done to Miss Middleton. The last time I heard her speak, which admittedly was a while ago, she sounded a bit posh but reasonably bright. Gone are those days. She now has an accent you could use to cut through steel and the intelligent comments have been replaced with a sort of disturbing doe eyed simpering. I’m wondering if the Royal Household has given the poor girl a transfrontal lobotomy of some sort. “It’s all rather daunting but I’m just looking forward to spending all my time with William” she gushed. Pull the other one Kate, you’ve been with him for 7 years and unless you’re completely different to all the intelligent girls I know, you are well aware that if you spent “all your time with William” you’d want to kill him slowly and painfully in less than a month. It’s a fact of life. Sadly it seems that to be a royal woman you have to put all thoughts of a personality, job or spirit behind you and concentrate on looking pretty and not doing anything controversial. I was quite surprised that he’d chosen to give her his mother’s engagement ring. I mean it’s a nice thought and all but really, does Princess Diana’s engagement ring say “long and happy marriage”? Not so much, it’s leaning more towards “Miserable existence where he lusts after someone else so you bang other people to bolster your self esteem and ultimately die in a tunnel in Paris with your lover”. Personally I’d have rather had a nice diamond or something. Or a horse. Nothing says ‘let’s get married’ like a new horse. If you’re posh anyway. Or at least that’s what happens in Poshworld in my head, this may bear no relationship whatsoever to reality.

So far the collection of commorative tat has been rather disappointing. It’s been 24 hours, I was expecting some truly marvellous concoctions to have emerged by now but no, so far we just have the Asda mug in the picture. I’m thinking that most people are going to go down the dull, tried and tested route of mugs and plates and I think this leaves a gap in the market for alternative wedding related crap. Instead of wedding related shit that you bung in a cupboard to gather dust until your grandkids drag it out and laugh at you, I think we need a range of useful tat and so I present to you:

THE VICOLA RANGE OF ROYAL WEDDING HOUSEHOLD CRAP

• Wills and Kate loo roll, available with a variety of photos on it, in aloe vera, quilted, double quilted and, for the less affluent tat hunter ‘cheapshit that scrapes the skin off your arse and disintegrates as you use it’. Who could ask for more?
• The Wills and Kate cake spatula, shaped like either a grinning Will or a grinning Kate – who hasn’t wanted to remove Victoria Sponge mix off the inside of a bowl using the flat side of the heir to the throne?
• The Wills and Kate plastic tablecloth – covered with a variety of pastel coloured scenes from the cheaper tabloids and ideal for children’s parties because the little sods always tip ice cream and Coca Cola all over your table. Doubles up as a plastic undersheet if you happen to have a household member who wets the bed.
• The Wills and Kate Wheelbarrow – Hand painted by people who can’t really draw but who we met in the pub and agreed to employ, complete with a plastic Wills glued to one handle and a plastic Kate to the other. Now you too can pretend you’re at Balmoral by wheeling the bag of horseshit you bought for the roses from one side of the garden to the other in a truly royal contraption. We take no responsibility for any injuries received if the wheels fall off.
• Truly the jewel in any commemorative tat crown, the Wills and Kate 1kg bag of tiling grout. Available in black and grey.

Hurry hurry people, these items are going to literally rocket out of my shed so you need to get your order in early. And if anyone else has any great ideas for practical commemorative tat, now is the time to share them!

Wanker of the Week

This week’s wanker is the lady above. For anyone who hasn’t come across her before, she is called Liz Jones and she supposedly writes about the life of women today for the Daily Mail. What she actually writes is crap about the life of Liz Jones and if you thought I was a bitch with a habit of picking on other people’s unfortunate character traits then you haven’t seen anything until you’ve read Liz Jones. She however tends to skip the ‘humour’ bit.

Anyway, you may be thinking that all that is a little bit general, not really enough to be awarding her Wanker of the Week, especially in a week where we’ve seen that airlines haven’t been bothering to check whether anyone is putting exposives in freight, presumably because parcels don’t wear shoes or a belt. And you would be right, it IS a bit general, there is more to offer on the fragrant Ms Jones and it is this article . Let’s have a look in more detail shall we?

The title reads: Is there a man left under 40 who isn’t a rude, ignorant pig? Well there’s an interesting question. Surely something truly calamatous must have happened to leave her with such a wonder. So what was it?

Yesterday, I drove out of a car park in ­Kensington, London, to find the power-steering on my BMW had gone. The car wouldn’t move.  Not a great start Liz. In one sentence you’ve said ‘Kensington’ and ‘BMW’, already putting you straight out of the salary bracket of virtually everyone reading. And our sympthy is beginning to wane straight away. Why not just say ‘the car broke down’ instead of pointing out to us all that you drive a posher car than we do?

Thankfully, I was in a cul de sac, not a motorway.I stopped and tried to pull over. My car was one foot from the kerb. I put my hazard lights on.Next to me was a building site full of men in fluoro ­jackets standing doing ­nothing.They could see my distress when I began ­peering under the bonnet.I got back in the car, and on my mobile phone to call the BMW breakdown ­service to get the vehicle recovered. I was in tears. Still no one ­bothered to help.  Seriously lady, get a grip. You’ve broken down in a cul de sac in Kensington. You are not sat in a dilapadated Skoda on the fast lane of the M6.  And once again you feel obliged to tell us you’re posher than us because you don’t call Green Flag, the RAC or the AA like we would. No, you call the BMW breakdown service. Pretentious twat.  What the hell are you in tears for anyway? Because something has gone wrong and in all your 50 years you’ve not learned how to deal with a problem? Leaving aside the fact that a group of contruction workers who are trained in building trades; joinery, carpentry, brick laying, concrete fixing etc are likely to have the square root of bugger all idea of how to fix the complicated electronic steering system of a modern BMW, if you were a man in this day and age would you approach some hysterical baggage who is having a hissy fit because her posh car isn’t working? I certainly wouldn’t.  Given what she’s just called men under 40 in the headline I suspect that should this happen again she may well find herself without assistance once more. So what else went wrong for Ms Jones?

Instead, do you know what the great British male subjected me to? Three cab drivers drew up beside me, shaking their fists and swearing. It wasn’t even as if I was blocking their way.Another van driver got out of his vehicle and banged his fist on my car. ‘You f****** cow!’ he shouted. This statement leads us to believe Ms Jones, that you may have told us a teeny tiny fib. People don’t wave fists and bother to get out of the cab to call you names just for being at the side of road NOT blocking their way, do they? You were blocking the road weren’t you? And I’ll be honest, that sounds like an awful lot of traffic for a cul de sac….

In the midst of all this, a parking warden knocked on my passenger window. I wound it down. ‘I can’t hear you,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you knock on the driver’s window?’Do you know what he said? ‘To do that I would have to stand in the road and I might get run over. The absolute bastard. The cad, the BOUNDER! How DARE he make your strain your teeny weeny little lady-ears just to avoid getting flattened by the stream of blocked traffic you just described. Lady, I have to ask because I’m genuinely curious…are you on glue? Can you really be that self obsessed that you’d expect a man to stand in a busy road just so you don’t have to make an effort to hear him? I fear you may be entirely insane.

It is young men — up to the age of 40 — who behave like louts.I had thought it was just my ex-husband who used to allow me to put petrol in the car while he sat warm in the passenger seat, but if my ­experience yesterday ­morning is anything to go by, it’s a generational phenomenon. What? Seriously woman, what the fucking hellski are you rambling about? You surely didn’t mean to type that. Mr V doesn’t put fuel in my car if he’s in the passenger seat and d’you know why? Because putting a fuel pump into the opening to the fuel tank of my vehicle is not bloody rocket science. It’s my car, my responsibility to put fuel in it. I can also check my own tires and put air in them, refill my own oil and, (get this chaps) change a tyre. Good god I must be some sort of men-woman hybrid. Or a lesbian. Because clearly in Liz’s world little ladies can’t fill their own fuel tanks, they need a strapping chap to it for them . If you are too girly to put a nozzle into a hole and press the handle Liz then might I suggest you are too delicate a flower to be on the roads, stick to staying home and writing your bile from there.  

Young working British men: you should be ashamed.Did this sort of foul-mouthed male really win us the war? We don’t need more aircraft ­carriers, we need men who are not rude, ignorant pigs. No they didn’t because you’re moaning about the under 40s. The war was 1939 – 1945. You do the maths darling. And in the war, women didn’t just refuel their own cars, they refuelled industrial vehicles and drove them (without the aid of power steering), they spied, they made munitions, built tanks, nursed, drove ambulances, helped fix planes, farmed, plotted aircraft courses and a million other jobs, without needing a man to hold their hands and without bursting into floods of hysterical tears because one little stumbling block had come their way. They were tough, resourceful and resilient. So it could be argued that women like YOU Liz didn’t win the war for us either. We don’t just need men who aren’t ‘rude ignorant pigs’ (and may I say for the record that the vast number of under 40s I know aren’t rude ignorant pigs), we need women that aren’t self pitying whiners who fall apart under the strain if they are left to deal with a frankly insignificant incident all on their girly wirly ownsome. Get a fucking grip you silly bitch, women fought long and hard for equality and a level playing field, you can’t now complain because that’s what we’ve got. Equal rights for women isn’t something you can turn on and off as the occasion suits you and frankly, if you were as rude to their faces as you’ve been in this article, I’m not at all surprised the builders didn’t help you, I wouldn’t either. Also, what of the women who walked past you and didn’t help? Mind you, they might have read your previous nonsense and be afraid of being eviscerated in your next column of crap so I suppose they can be excused.

So, for being a whinger of the first water, unable to cope with a simple car breakdown, being an embarrassment to womankind and rude to boot, I award Liz Jones “Wanker of the Week”. Now take it and sod off you irritating woman. Something tells me this might not be the last time Ms Jones receives this award….

Cat vs Printer

Oh my god, it’s me, only in cat form. This is exactly what I was doing all last week…

Oops

I’ve just received a bollocking from the Head Geek (leader of the IT geeks in case you were wondering). On Friday morning the usual guy that I think gets in here about 4am was on holiday so when I arrived at 7.30am, this side of the office was still locked up. I went down to accounts, collected the key, unlocked this half of the office then because the main office was still all locked up and I don’t know their code I couldn’t put the key in the pigeonhole to be taken back down to accounts like I usually do. So I put it on my desk to take down later and of course, inevitably forgot about it.

In most normal offices, this would result in using the spare key. Or asking someone else who has a key to use theirs. Not ours. Apparently my actions resulted in a full scale search of several locations and a number of offices including mine, (where the key was located) because forgetting to return the key to the pigeonhole had rendered the Under-Geek unable to lock the building so he had rung the Head Geek in a massive panic.

Now this was undoubtedly my bad, since I forgot to return the key but for fuck’s sakes, what sort of security system relies on the functioning brain cells of someone at 7.30am on a Friday morning? And who only has one key to lock the building available to an office staffed by 30 odd people? Mental.

Head Geek was very determined to get through to me the seriousness of what I had done. Each “Sorry, my mistake, I will ensure that next time I put the key back” was greeted with a fresh reason why I ruined someone’s life, delivered in a soft voice, as though I was some sort of dangerous mental patient. I’m wondering if he heard me shouting at the printer last week. This went on for a while but I did manage not to suggest that short of turning back time and returning the key there is little more I can now do than say sorry, won’t happen again. I have been here 8 years and this is the first time I’ve managed to do that, I think we can all be allowed one key based fuck up in 8 years, don’t you think?

I suspect I am now persona non grata in the IT department. The Under Geek is not in today, I wonder if he’s still getting over the trauma?