Ossie Bin Landmine

Student loan government lackeys

Years ago I read a NME interview with Keith Moon. The journalist arrived as an accountant departed. Moon lobbed a flowerpot at the accountant's head. There's honest performance appraisal and feedback. “Get us paid in dollars. Sterling 'aint worth a rub.”

Here's some honest feedback to the civil service, generally: you 'aint worth a rub. Cut your pay by 90% and you'd still be bad value. How someone you've messed about, with days to live, hasn't gunned you all down or blown you all up heaven knows. I may start one of those training camps for terminally ill and terminally messed about people who want to suicide bomb HMRC offices. Osama Bin Liner. Disguised as cleaners. You'd have to plant the bombs in the restrooms / fag shelters / meeting rooms. Forget the phone answering desks. They're deserted 24/7.

Armstrong v Saville

The headline is 'can Jimmy Saville and Lance Armstrong charities survive?' Underneath that the article describes them both as disgraced.

No sensible, intelligent, human can consider the two under the same umbrella, under the same headline, in the same article. Step back. Analyse. Think.

Lance Armstrong survived cancer to win the most brutal, the most incomprehensibly difficult bike race seven times. He was injecting godknowswhat into himself. Frequently. In large doses. So were his opponents. In considering Armstrong, whatever your stance on doping, look at the race. A series of days riding a bike over huge distances, with massive climbs and descents along the way. Almost thirty days of this. For variety, time trials, nowhere to hide. Team time trials, with the last man home counting, nowhere to hide. A man talented, dedicated, strong enough to overcome the cancer, and yes, chemically enhanced enough to win the most brutal race in cycling. Seven times.

You don't ever win the Tour de France, that's the winner's mantra. You just don't lose touch long enough to compete on the final day. There's a truck, named in Frech as the 'mop up truck' or something similar, that picks up each day's non-survivors. Throws them in with their bikes. Too far off the pace or too damaged to be of any use from that point onwards. A properly brutal end to a brutal test.

Saville. What was his talent, exactly? Act brilliantly? Play an instrument? Write like an angel? What, exactly?

The cult of the celebrity. Why self-promoters like Moyles should be shot at dawn. What can they do? Paint? Draw? Take magnificent photos? Anything at all? Nope. Nothing whatsoever.

We have two sets of human parasites. These career celebs are one of them.

There's an insurmountable difference. Armstrong (by his own free will) injected himself; Saville injected those who couldn't resist, with himself.

One is a man (and lives). The other, well...

Another headline: Strictly beats X Factor in TV battle

First: don't assume. Your paper may distribute to retard TV suckers. I don't actually know what 'Strictly' refers to, having made a point of avoiding such wastes of time. A turd is a turd. A radioactive, toxic, splattered everywhere turd is just that. Please, at the very least, explain what the subject is. Any male referring to that show as just “Strictly” should be removed from the gene pool. By repeated hitting about the head with a heavy blunt object. I'll gladly volunteer. Can I shout “strictly what, you ----” down their ears between blows?

Second: there's 20.5 million view those shows. No wonder telly's aimed at retards.

Third: there's no third. There's your telly. Have it. Make sure you drop your children on their heads. Repeatedly. Just in case they may want something more, and be saddled with your genes, and so have to put up with the stuff beamed into your living room. Designed for adult-size nappy wearers by adult-size nappy wearers. Imagine if Cleese, Idle and Palin approached the Beeb today? “Very good, thanks guys, but we've got karaoke hairdressers from Essex, ice-skating division four footballers, and a tribute to a sex offender disc jockey to fit in. Sorry. Bye.”