Orange President. Orange Prime Minister. We’ve been Tangoed.

To be Tangoed as the adverts used to go was to receive a shock to the system, often by a slap to the face. Which is exactly what Theresa May’s proposals for our future Government has been to the British electorate. You remember Donald Trump massaging his special relationship with Theresa? It was all hand over hand with the threat of a locker room grab to the nether regions hanging in the air. I’ve heard to brighten up her general death like demeanour he advised she should turn Orange like him…I’m not sure forming a government with The DUP was what he meant.

Watching the election results come in the other night was a bit like watching a game of Rugby. There’s a lot of stuff going on that we don’t all exactly understand. Then you get to the end asking, “Did we win? It looks like we won! How come the opposition are getting a penalty in the dying minutes? I THOUGHT WE WERE WINNING!”

I don’t ask much from my future government but I do think it a bit important they all believe Dinosaurs were real. The DUP are putting it lightly a bunch of creationist knuckle draggers. Their manifesto is essentially the Bible with the bins going out every fortnight. Anti LGBT, Climate change deniers, anti catholic. Brexit no longer seems to mean Brexit. Brexit means F**k the Pope. They actually believe the European Union was a Papal conspiracy. It seems the Romans are still very much a threat in their minds.

They’re not so keen on women’s rights either. They’re Anti abortion and believe public breastfeeding is an act of exhibitionism. Obviously putting on a bowler hat and a sash while a full brass band belts out sectarian anthems is the work of shrinking violets.

I can only describe May’s desperate cling to power via the DUP as sociopathic. This is a woman who cares not a jot for consequence as long as she still gets to sit at the top of the table. Watching Theresa May right now is like watching a fart trying to be heard in a hurricane. Flailing around in her MayBot way chanting “Strong and Stable” as her programmers try desperately hard to try and figure out to make her user friendly. It’s impossible. She doesn’t like people. Her alliance with the DUP is actually illegal in regards to the terms of the Good Friday Agreement. A pact for peace in Ireland that the DUP refused to sign. It is also a threat to that peace and should be fought against at every turn over the coming weeks. Perhaps if we’re really nice to them Sinn Fein might choose to take up their seats in parliament and we can redress the balance. Jeremy Corbyn will drag us back to the 70s they cried. Well that doesn’t seem as bad as going back to the 1690s.

However this doesn’t mean all is lost. The exact opposite in fact. I’ve been a supporter of Jeremy Corbyn since before he was elected leader of the Labour Party. I always believed if we got his name on the ballot paper then his policies would chime with the electorate. I believed this because of what the SNP achieved in Scotland and think we owe them a decent nod for bringing compassion back into mainstream politics. The Tory smear campaign against Corbyn in the election was abhorrent. To attempt to label a decent man as a terrorist sympathiser while we were under attack from terrorists was below the lowest of the low. However now that the Tories are having to for a Government with the DUP…well these accusations seem to have…ahem…blown up in their faces. I really did enjoy the Tweet from the Police Federation page that said, “It’s not the amount of MPs you have Theresa it’s what you do with them. You have to do more with less.” How poignant.

For now Corbyn and the SNP wait in the wings. They look like they’re going to play the long game. I don’t think the changes that are coming are some kind of a flash in the pan either. If you look at what’s happening globally voices of the left are coming in from many areas. I think the changes that are coming to this island will be as seismic as the changes Thatcher ushered in and will probably last as long.  The future’s bright, the future is NOT Orange.

 

Indy Ref. 2 A Poem.

I understand your fear
What are we walking into?
Just look at all the foodbanks
Are you up for joining that queue?
I understand uncertainty
Of our countries destination
It’s all the fault of immigrants
Is the bigots proclamation
That’s the fear they’ll try to spread
Demonising the unknown
But we have bigger family
In that  European zone
I understand your caution
To have heedfulness is wise
“We’ll give you more of your own say”
Do you still believe those lies?
But what about the economy
Our pay will take a squeeze
So put your trust in bankers
There’s nothing they won’t seize
The way they treat a worker
Is more akin to robbery
You’ll break your back, work endless shift
As they shove you into poverty
But what about the NHS
They say it’s safe with them
As you queue for beds eternally
Until your life’s condemned
You see I understand uncertainty
What are we walking into?
But surely now you know
This is the last chance for a breakthrough
I understand uncertainty.
But what shall we become
I’m not sure, but look at this list
And you’ll know what you’re walking from.

A Christmas message for the generation of the self.

Christmas is coming. But please remember there are people less fortunate than you. And there’s a good reason for that, it’s because you’re better than them! Fuck em! Homeless types are in that situation because they bring it on themselves. How dare they put us on guilt trips as we have to step over them during the sales. Same goes for the unemployed. What’s wrong with an 80 hour week on a zero hours contract? If you don’t want to do it I’m sure we can get some child from the Eastern bloc who’ll be more than happy on £2.50 an hour.

So stuff your face and spend thousands on bling, blood diamonds are probably best for profit margin. Up yours Jesus. Anyway Jesus hated the poor didn’t he? There was that time he cured the cripple. He said, “take up thy bed and walk. you’ve been declared fit for work you scrounging bastard” And as for May and Joseph…what you think we’re paying bedroom tax so you can just freeload for the night! That’s what we believe the rest of the year. So why change all that just because it Christmas? Why spoil 30 years of the self just because of some foggy minded Christian values. Hail Thatcher.

John gets Mad, Class and Elites.

I was doing a gig in a posher bit of town the other night and an elderly lady came up to me and asked, “Why is it that all comedians are on the left?” I replied that there are conservative comedians nowadays. And if you think not so long ago lots of comedians were  right wing or Tories. Just look at Jim Davidson and Bernard Manning. And she replied, “Yes but they were horrible.” I said, “Yeah I know. I wonder why that was.”

I miss the simpler days when there were just three classes. Upper, middle and working. Now we’ve got

  1. Elites
  2. Upper
  3. Middle
  4. Working
  5. Oh my god he’s wearing Crocs.

Class really does inform your sense of humour. here’s a genuine conversation I had with one of the Cambridge Footlights at The Edinburgh festival this year.

ME. So yesterday my front row was four 13 – 14 year old boys.

FOOTLIGHTS. That must have been difficult.

ME. No. They were great. I had a great moment when I did my money bucket speach. I said to them. You young guys don’t have to pay…But I do want a blow job. Don’t worry you still get the free CD.

FOOTLIGHTS. Good God! And the audience were OK with that?

ME. Yeah. Err…It was one of the biggest laughs of the night.

FOOTLIGHTS. Im shocked.

ME. That’s nothing. I shifted another 4 CDs and got a blow job.

FOOTLIGHTS. ( Gazes into the middle distance…. Then goes inside)

ME. Sniggers…

I recently quite inadvertently stumbled on a way to make yourself feel like an Elite. I was in the park and had eaten a bag of pistachio nuts. Obviously when you finish pistachio nuts you’re left with a bag of hard empty shells. Just as I was about to clear them away a gust of wind came and scattered them over the ground. I suppose it looked like I was throwing out grain as a flock of pigeons descended on them… Well, suddenly I felt like the chancellor. I thought “You think you’re getting something. But it’s nothing but empty shells. That’s trickle down economics for you. I get nuts, you get empty shells. Know why? Because you’re vermin.”

And there was this one pigeon that couldn’t fly because it had a broken wing. Well…It was making out it had I broken wing. But I knew better than that. So I started kicking it, “Come on you, you can fly, you’re not fooling me.” Eventually I just picked it up and threw it in the air. It came down with a thud and died. I said, “Fair enough. You’ve passed the assessment.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An open letter to Richard Branson and his trains (Renationalise the railways)

 

I travel on British trains a lot. I reckon trains in India are better. We have the worst and most expensive service in Europe.  

The east coast line went back into public ownership and became the most efficient and profitable in the country. But we can’t be having that. Where is the sense in customer care. But panic not we managed to get rid of all that by selling it back to Richard Branson.

He actually has a sign on these cattle trucks that asks How are we doing? and an address to send your thoughts to him….So here’s the letter I wrote.

HOW AM I DOING.

Dear Richard Branson I thought I’d just send a quick note in regards to your question how am I doing? Well I’m afraid the answer’s not very good. I’m not sure where to start on this subject but let’s first go with the often overwhelming stench of unprocessed shit that often tickles my nostrils when traveling on your bovine Cowperson express.

How can we explain to you that it takes more than an egg cup full of water to flush a toilet that has been blocked since Newark Northgate?

It’s not all bad news though as I’ve discovered a fitting revenge to this situation when passing through Grantham the birth place of Margaret Thatcher and spiritual mother to pus ridden colossal greed juggernauts like your good self.

As soon as your train pulls into Grantham station I take great delight in running through it and flushing every toilet IN THE STATION. Thus depositing the pungent effluent of two generations of an exploited, tyrannized and quite frankly totally constipated work force. Try leading the masses by the nose after that one you creepy haired cat wanker.

If somehow I manage to work up an appetite on your defecation express can I please point out that not even NASA have figured out how to make a cheese and ham toastie in a fucking microwave.

The fact that this service costs £132.00 to go from Newcastle to London and is often so overcrowded I’ve seen people pass out yet still remain upright, packed in like Scousers at a Poundland sale, is yet another moot point. This should be enough reason to have you put on one of your new space shuttles on a one way trip to the moon.

I can’t believe you actually think we want to go into space with you? The toasties would be even worse and there would be shit floating everywhere!

Personally I would like to beat you to death with bags of your own money.

I’ll tell you this sir your trains are well named Virgin because nobody wants to ride on them.

Yours the customer.

The Ladies of Greggs (poem)

If you’re reading this outside the UK I should explain Greggs are a nationwide chain of bakers who originate from the city I live in Newcastle. I’ve heard several locals refer to them as a good employer. I can’t vouch that 100% you’d have to ask the staff. But the notion of employers treating staff well is a dwindling standard across the globe with some large areas being shoved back to slavery. I think that’s what the deliver us from evil line is about at the end…

 

THE LADIES OF GREGGS.

The ladies of Greggs work hard on their legs.
To bring us those pasties that keep us all fed.
The ladies of Greggs rise early from bed.
They’re the best of all mothers Ive oft heard it said.

With a smile and a cheery, “There ye gan pet.”
To say they seem happy is a fairly safe bet.
But why do they bother to bring us good service.
Most workers these days of their jobs they are nervous.

Because Greggs are an employer of decent repute.
Thats why you dont find them in industrial dispute.

For the cakes that they bake pay a good hourly rate so happiness at work is these ladies fate.

So we’d like to show thanks to the people at Greggs.
Deliver us from evil with our daily bread.

Some economic advice.

It’s interesting when you go to the cash machine and one of the options is, would you like an advice slip. The thing is it’s not really advice is it? It’s just the correct information about the precarious state of your financial affairs.

If it was advice it would say something like…ah well…you’re fucked. But it isn’t all your fault.

The reason for your financial distress is our governments have sold themselves out to large corporations.

These corporations are moving cheap labour all around the globe which results in wage stagnation and push down economics.

They have no interest in your financial welfare. They are designed to push for maximum profits at a great cost to human welfare.

These profits are then divided among a small group of share holders and directors while you the worker get pushed further and further into almost slave like conditions.

You have one of two choices in this situation. You can stick your head in the sand until they take the last of your rights from you…or…you can unite, take up arms and tear down your oppressors.

Now that would be advice.