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not to do with the dissembling right, but the deceptive left...

Cull met Gordon Brown but he was away before he could be grilled about shovelling public money into private accounts via the PFI joke. Appalling Labour staff do was the occasion and the (Un)Common(ly)wealth(y) Club the venue. Incredibly poncy snacks, live spazz band and vacuous entities competing over who was talking to the most important person (after 'Gordon' had left). A genuine tribute to the people who work for the Labour party up and down the country; not at all metrocentric; everybody there was clearly thinking about the people that the Labour party represent; and there wasn't the slightest hint of wall to wall social masturbation. Power corrupts and egos are humanity thieves.

Stronting Bialbus (Norse shouting specialist)


The Mail's "sickest TV show ever" verdict on Morris' Paedoph Isles Brass Eye was published in the same issue that it carried pictures of royal kids in their bikinis. Paul Dacre and co were also sent a transcript of the programme, as well as offered exclusive interviews with the celebrities sent up in it, to see if it would be interested in preventing the broadcast of such filth. "It's not a story," they replied. Triple-standard bastards.

Two of the MPs in the show who complained about their inability to spot satire also had their whinges revoked.

Saw Gerald Howarth on BBC's London Tonight, getting facts wrong then denying women priznas the right to alternative incarceration arrangements. He'd much rather defend the already fast-dying Military presence in Aldershot: so much easier applying cosmetic remedies than fundamental change to north Hampshire, and being suckered into the aforementioned Brass Eye. Gerald No-worth should be denied basic access to metal rimmed spectacles, they add such a pathetically manic glint to the fascist slither, that he claims to have the appearance of 'one of the people'. I reckon he looks like John Redwood as well, nice bit of face-cyst continuity there.

Right Homos

"I like girls", was the joint assertion apropos of nothing in a Westminster lift by Tory machos Sebastian Coe and William Vague. What could they have been trying to prove?

It is becoming increasingly disturbing to witness the mass assumption that homosexuality equals tolerant attitude. Clearly there should never be a stereotyping of one sexuality, gender, ethnicity or hairstyle as a narrow political sensibility.

However, gay right-wingers seem to have occupied the upper echelons of the Gory party for most of the 20th century (at least) and there appears to be no let up in the right wing agenda benders that are either open about their sexuality (the Wets like Matthew Parris, Michael Brown and Ted Heath. Ooops, actually, the esteemed ex-PM Tedmond (Hampstead) Heath never quite betrayed/confessed what the tabloid euphemism ‘confirmed bachelor’ actually refers to but still remains a one-nation tosspot, just) or rabid Thatcherite/Josephian eugenecists who would never go public but can rarely control their urges at party conferences, where several blue rinses revert to their natural white at the sight of the likes of Nigel Evans passionately snogging a suitably submissive young intern with his twisted chops in the lobby of the main hotel. Don’t worry, William dressed him down accordingly.

When a life-sized doll of Rudolph Hess with detatchable genitals is an erotic essential in the foreplay, then, politically, something is awry

In this context, homosexual behaviour is restrictively compartmentalised and the proximity to power and powerful figures in the matronly Mother of all Parliaments seems to add to the elitist insularity of male politicians on the right and far right. This extension of the public school ethos suggests some schizophrenic dimensions to existence as a sexual being.

Denial of the full extent of personality as a multi-faceted individual (which includes all of us) accommodates the breathtaking pre-judgements of people based on superficial differences of race, class and (how ironic) gender that so characterises fascist thought and is diluted for the sake of political presentation in the Conservative party.

Duncan Smith’s ascension to the summit of this heap of reactionary white supremacists and coked Christians has allowed a closer inspection of the ideologIcal warts that abound this society-as-business, sermon-sense bunch of political piss purveyors.

Nationalism has a sexual dimension that is emotionally linked to the desire to repress people on the grounds of difference and the status of the homosexual in this context is ambiguous to say the very least. If there is an element of yourself that you have been socialised into recognising as stigmatised and wrong, then it is easier to take this frustration out on other groups within society who are also singled out for prejudice by the same warped value system.

The Big Issue story a couple of years ago about the group of BNP activists in Bristol who were found dead, rigid, in the train position and with nooses around their necks was an illustration of a demented desire. Nowt wrong with s&m and/or homosexuality but when a life-sized doll of Rudolf Hess with detachable genitals is an erotic essential in the foreplay, then, politically, something is awry.

Any sexual act involves an object and agent; the submissive and the dominant. An emotional framework that is the perfect canvass for the expression and interpretation of unrealised ambition. Nothing wrong with a good suck and lashings of kinky improvision. As long as you’re not publicly espousing views that promote the suppression of such social and sexual expressionism.

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