Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Leave Lee Ryan Alone!

He's sleasy and cheesy, but at the end of the day he's harmless, and those two young women were just as bad as he was. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but it isn't exactly romantic for one young lady to get "turned on" by squeezing a man's spots, and another to as him if he wants a blow job--and then complain when he reacts like most men would!

But sending him death-threats, that's snake's belly low. He hasn't harmed anyone.

I've a had a couple myself, this week. Not much new there, then. A filthy-mouthed Irishwoman who I won't name, save that she's a friend (when she's not attacking her) of our old favourite, Dockyard Doris, who came banging on my door a couple of years ago and of whom Mrs B observed, "If I'd have known she was taping it on her phone, the phone would have gone down the grate, and her after it!" Mrs Spud, who I'm not saying is lacking intelligence although she does make thicker chips, and by way of using a variety of expletives and spelling none of them right, says she is going to come here to hit me over the head with a shovel. And like DD, she makes a few comments about my wife. Do I call the cops? No, I just make sure that there is something behind the door.

The only way to deal with these people, and my advice to Lee, is to ignore them. Well, one can send someone around to their door with an even bigger shovel, but that would only damage the shovel because the skulls of these people are so thick, and when you get to the inside it's usually an empty space.

Thirty, forty years ago it was a different story: the odd dog-lead here, the odd knuckle-duster there, or Cousin Jack offering to break the odd bone. Nowadays I prefer the "romantic" approach. It's non-violent, and its fun. You close your eyes and you envisage these middle-aged, vituperative harpies--bloated and floating atop a stagnant pool, having been poisoned by their own vitriol, their rheumy eyes gaping up at the darkened clouds while the crows encircle, wondering if it will be safe to peck them to bits. And if Lee Ryan is like me, he'll put these attacks to good use and earn money from them.

I even feel a story coming on... 


Lee Ryan: I've had death threats


Lee Ryan claims he has had death threats since leaving the Celebrity Big Brother house.
The Blue singer angered some viewers for kissing and cuddling both Casey Batchelor and Jasmine Waltz while he was in the house, leaving Casey confused about the status of their relationship.
Lee told Channel 5 News: "I've been having death threats. Yeah, which is not nice. They've been saying pretty bad things - like threatening me with my life.
"I've had one person saying, 'If I see you I'm gonna stab you, I'm gonna, like, axe you in the head.' I mean I understand people are upset but to threaten me with my life. This is just ridiculous.
"I mean, I haven't hurt anyone in a malicious way, I've just got myself into a situation that I couldn't really get out of. I understand people are upset but that's a bit too far."
He added: "I think that it's, yeah, obviously I take responsibility for my actions. But I think I was confused myself if I'm honest. That's what I hand on heart would say - that I was confused by the situation as well. And I think I was getting mixed messages of honesty."
Meanwhile, American model and actress Jasmine has told ITV's Lorraine that while she is looking forward to seeing Lee outside the house, she is not in love with him.
She revealed: "Of course [we'll talk] yes, I'm excited for that and nervous. Am I in love with him? No, I wouldn't say I was in love with him.

Sunday, 26 January 2014

Peter Tatchell Is Not Always Right

(Robbie Rogers)

Today, Peter Tatchell asks young gay athletes to "come out", claiming that it helps other young people come to terms with their sexuality, and others to accept them if they see that they have something in common with their idols.

Absolute tosh!

Robbie Rogers, Tom Daley et all have one thing in common. They live and work in environments where they are protected, where they have less of a chance of getting attacked or bullied in everyday life--save in the press and on social networks, which they are at liberty to ignore.

It's wrong, I know. There should be tolerance. And I'll say it again, the only good homophobe is one who is pushing up daisies or reposing within an urn. There are some very nasty people out there, people who will never change and who one cannot educate because they are rotten through to the core. 

Lunatics who have attacked me over the past few years--every single one of these a repulsive homophobe with a great deal to hide--have always speculated about my sexuality. They are too brainless  to argue sensibly about the various issues I've been involved with, so they aim for something they think might offend me. It doesn't, but they don't like me picking up on their sore points and giving them a taste of their own medicine. Long may they not live. I never pick on anyone unless they've picked on me first, and I bear grudges. I call them in, even after years of silence. 

But, Peter, this is why you are basically wrong when asking for people to come out, and why it is inappropriate for most.

Imagine a young black teenager at a rough-and-tough school in Brixton, who is already suffering prejudice for being "different". Imagine what happens when he tells everyone he is gay.

Imagine teenagers at other schools up and down the country, queuing up to be treated at casualty departments because, rather than choose common sense and apply caution, they say, "It's all right for Tom. I thought it would be all right for me." 

It doesn't work.

Thursday, 23 January 2014

Justin Bieber: Why I Have No Sympathy


I have no sympathy whatsoever for this creature. He reminds me of a young woman who shall remain nameless (as Marlene said, "Not that one, the other one!") who has had a finger on the self-destruct button for so long, it's glued to it. 

Justin Bieber has very little talent. He's just a pretty face, but what makes him dangerous in that thousands of young people worship him to such an extent--a bit like the Mozzaloops--that they will cling to his every word and action. The difference between Bieber and Mozza is that Mozza has genuine talent--oodles of it, but sadly a mouth like the Mersey Tunnel--while Bieber is JUST a pretty face. The majority of the fans, however, are just as barking mad--the Mozza fans of their own volition, and little to do with him--the Bieber fans just giddy girls who follow his every whim.

Bieber, like the aforementioned female is arrogant, and a law unto himself. No one can tell him what to do because he thinks he knows it all, and he has the additional peril in that he has "found God", which of course he thinks gives him leeway to act like a complete pratt.

I hope, for his own sake, that he gets sent to prison. Okay, so he'll probably end up as somebody's bitch--if Benidorm's Donald can, so can Justin--but at least he'll have the arrogance knocked out of him and hopefully get his life back on track. 

Otherwise, I cannot see this young man reaching his twenty-first birthday, which would be sad. 

Ollie Locke~What A Gentleman!


He's quite possibly the nicest, sweetest and politest person that's ever been in the Big Brother house, yet the poor chap cannot win when pitched against those horrendous women! It's taken him three weeks to finally let rip and swear back, and even then he radiates class.

Homophobes and racists aside, there's nothing worse on God's earth than a woman who swears--and most of the women here need their mouths washing out with carbolic. Luisa curses like a trooper on home leave, and has the morals of a slug. The others are little better. As for Linda Nolan, she would be perfectly at home selling cod on Grimsby market--and prove yet again that there's another woman who thinks she's God's gift to the world that she would never sell any, even if she was giving it away! 

Any woman who calls someone a "c*nt" in public is the lowest of the low. 

I'm certain that Ollie will win this. I found out the other day that I've worked with his mother, too! Such a small world! He's a legend!

Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Anelka & Dieudonné: That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore


I've watched Dieudonné's act, and it was an extremely unpleasant experience. Making jokes about concentration camps and gas ovens, and attacking every other minority, this man is a combination of Chubby Brown and Bernard Manning, multiplied as many times as you like.

With friends like him, who needs enemies? Anelka has now been charged, as of this morning, for making that "quenelle", and should have the book thrown at him. Banning these culprits entirely is the only way to stop anti-Semitism, racism and homophobia. These vehemently evil, prejudiced bigots are so encapsulated in their sphere of hatred that they always protest that they are not this or that, while their actions proclaim to the outside world that only the opposite applies.

Having Anelka on the football pitch and having Dieudonné on the stage equates to inviting a couple of "writers" I know to front Gay Pride, or like appointing Rose West to run Childline, and like them they should now be shunted to the sidelines and forgotten about. This allows them to spend the rest of their lives spouting their claptrap in their own little world, while we in the outside world are confident in knowing that decent people will be taking no notice.

Monday, 20 January 2014

Cleveland Street: The Musical

I'm so pleased that this may be about to be revived. It's a splendid show, all about The Dilly Boys, and is not in the least bit dirty as some might think! Even with song titles like "Rum, Buggery & The Lash" this is classy stuff. One of the regulars at Cleveland Street was Lord Cecil Wilde(1859-1947)~another alleged punter was a member of the royal family. The house was jut around the corner from my publisher, and the atmosphere very moving when I visited, recently, even though it is of course no longer a "house of fun". And don't be surprised if we don't end up seeing Lord Cecil on stage, singing little ditties like, "Come On, My Lovelies~Get Your Jellied Eel Johnnies" and "Nancy With The Tattooed Quim". Stranger things have happened at sea!

 

Cleveland Street: The Musical at Above the Stag

26th April - 29th May 2011

Reviewed by Tom Wicker

Three.



Cleveland Street
Bawdy music hall romp. Photo: Derek Drescher
Cleveland Street: The Musical, a new show written by Glenn Chandler (of Taggart fame) with music by Matt Devereaux, is a curate’s egg of a production. At its best, during the first act, it’s an enjoyable pastiche of music hall traditions that gives a postmodern wink to the audience without coming across as smug or overly self-conscious. However, the show runs into problems when Chandler, as if chafing against the constraints of the light-hearted style he’s adopted, starts making heavy-handed points about social hypocrisy, media manipulation and the corruption of the English legal system. The result is an uneven and overlong second half that lacks the pace and focus of the first.
The musical tells the true story of a male brothel at 19 Cleveland Street that achieved notoriety when a boast by one of its prostitutes about a client, allegedly Queen Victoria’s grandson, the Prince of Wales, led to an investigation that implicated some of the most powerful members of London society. The brothel was shut down, its proprietors, Charles Hammond and his wife Caroline Cotte, escaped to France and the Earl of Euston successfully sued the North London Press for libel after the paper published a story naming him as a client.
As directed by Tim McArthur, the occupants of 19 Cleveland Street are an alternative family in the Dickensian mould. Charles (Josh Boyd-Rochford) and Caroline (Fanni Compton) as “the two Madams” are the squabbling parents of a gaggle of unruly boys who giggle and tell each other stories before going off to have sex with a revolving door of aristocrats known pseudonymously as Mr White, Black, Brown and Green. The cast’s occasional foray into the audience for a chat or a flirt reinforces this cosy atmosphere of thrown-together domesticity.
Boyd-Rochford and Compton are perhaps the strongest performers, both in terms of acting and singing, sketching their characters broadly enough to allow room for pathos when their world collapses around them. By turns lascivious, shrewd and sincere, Boyd-Rochford imbues Charles with a sly charisma that keeps his wife by his side and attracts the petulantly beautiful Henry Newlove, played with spiky sensuality by Ashley Martin. As Thomas Swinscow, whose loose tongue leads to calamity, Michael Anderson is endearingly gawky, struggling not to sound like the messenger boy that he is when trussed up like a Roman emperor to satisfy a client. Unfortunately, as Ernest Thickbroom, the third of the 19 Cleveland Street new boys, Adam Elliott’s gurning performance soon grates.
The tunes are, for the most part, bright and breezy but not hugely memorable. ‘Climbing the ladder, passing the buck’, performed by the characters as part of a show within the show, is a clever song that outstays its welcome; only ‘I was there!’, sung by embittered older prostitute (and the show’s narrator), John Saul (Paul Branagan), makes an impact – whipping along with contagious, bawdy energy in Act One and, as a solo reprise at the end, jagged-edged and loaded with poignancy and regret.
These snippets of bleakness, including Swinscow’s unpleasant initiation into life as a prostitute with the creepy Lord Somerset (played with wolfish appetite by Joe Shefer), are part of the problem with Cleveland Street. Serious themes are invoked but they’re never developed; quickly being superseded by jokes about syphilis, high kicks and the occasional flash of cock (which was met with audible appreciation, on the night I saw it, by a gentleman in the back row). The shifts are too abrupt, resulting in a script that increasingly comes across as fractured rather than textured.
Ultimately, then, in spite of McArthur’s strong and cohesive direction, the effectively lavish staging (velvet drapes and gilded birdcages abound) and some full-blooded performances, Cleveland Street’s indecision as to what it wants to be – camp musical? Satire with songs? – results in a whole that’s sometimes less satisfying than its parts.

Related Reviews

Morrissey-Parody & Other Fruit-Loops


It's an old, old story. Someone succeeds at what they are doing--be they actor, singer, writer, or whatever. Someone else is a monumental failure at everything they attempt in life, personally and professionally, not specifically because they are no good at their trade, though this is often the case, but because their behaviour sees them coming across as barking mad.

First there was a monumental failure who has proved as popular to the literary world as a pork chop in a synagogue, whose fourth-rate works are as easy to buy as a bottle of whisky in a mosque. Then there was a dying woman who was proved to be as fit as a bug in a rug. Next up, a collection of barking mad housewives of whom the least said the better, some of whom could give lessons in family life to Freda Jackson.

Now, we have "Morrissey-Parody", who like all of the above is too spineless to write in its own name, but who says it is a woman, and who calls someone "c*nt" (now where have I heard that one before?) and then moans when there are repercussions. Oh, and two of the above are obsessed with the name Wilde. One thinks they are him, the other thinks he's still alive.

Morrissey-Parody says, of my denunciation of paedophiles, that my heart is "not in the right place". I think you'll find, my dear, that very few people are going to share your belief that harming children is a good thing. Maybe this is why you are too cowardly to use your own name? When it comes to hurting children, my heart is very much in the right place. IT IS WRONG!!!

You have to read Morrissey-Parody's thousands of tweets to see just how barking mad this person is. Maybe they should write their thoughts in a book, and it too can be  assigned to the scrap-heap? If I've said it once, I've said it a million times. Just as the only good homophobe and racist is a dead one, so too there is probably no such thing as a "normal" Morrissey fan.

Before the weedy little vegans start throwing tofu bombs at my kitchen window, let me say that there are thousands of people who like Morrissey's music, as indeed do I. Musically, the man is a genius. I am talking about the FANATICS. I've met many of them, and they are genuinely weird. I was standing at the bar of Sheffield City Hall with a very well-known journalist who observed of the line of fans outside the venue, "A good shit or shag would kill them!"

They are pasty-faced, they copy his hairstyle even if they don't have much hair left, they have his name tattooed all over their bodies--I was in the toilet at Drury Lane when a young American showed everyone his cock, which had the word MOZZA emblazoned on it. They don't eat meat, they don't have sex--well, they reckon that--and anything that he doesn't do, neither do they. I went to one fan's house to interview him. His room had a shelf lined with glass jars filled with leaves, grass clippings and soil which they had purloined from his garden. I met Morrissey's lover, who had MOZ tattooed on his stomach, the O surrounding his navel.
May I say too that he was a genuinely nice young man who also thought that the some of the fans were not just bonkers, but potentially dangerous.

They all read Oscar Wilde, and play whatever records he plays, even if they dislike the artistes. He hates the royal family, so do they. These people do not have minds of their own. He has become a cult, but he is by no means the leader of this cult because, privately, he is more normal and rational than they could ever be. They share their barking mad theories, which he finds humiliating because they are giving HIM a bad name. I checked a few sites recently. Nutcases such as those I met twenty years ago still tweet about him a hundred times a day, and have had him on the brain twenty-four hours a day since 1983. Comparatively few of them are married, or in relationships. Who would have them, or even want them? If he's in Vienna one night, Melbourne the next, Oshkosh after that, there's a handful of fanatics who will always be in the front row--they will have slept in doorways and gone without food to be there, and feel better for it. There are few things that the genuine Morrissey fanatic likes better than making himself suffer. They like to think themselves Christian martyrs, and enjoy nothing more than throwing themselves to the lions.

Morrissey recently said that paedophilia was no worse than eating meat. I criticised him, not just publicly but personally. He is man enough to take such criticism. I wrote to his record company, well aware that this would do him good. I have my reasons--he and I are team-players fighting the same crusade. People write to my team, and in doing so earn me a lot more money than I might normally earn. They write that I'm this and that--all water off a duck's back, and of course they never like getting a taste of their own medicine. I can think of at least three of my books which have attained six-figure sales because small-minded people have gone out of their way to label me a failure. Long may they do so! It's like one pig telling another pig that it smells. They like to think that they see in me what others see in them: self-important little nobodies. But, I hasten to add, not all of them--just the fanatics who have achieved little in their lives other than one self-inflicted failure after another. Lanza, Formby, Harlow, Valentino, Dusty et all would be laughing their socks off at these silly people who succeed only in making themselves look like prize tits--and I am sure, indeed I know, that Morrissey feels the same. Not that the loonies would ever accept this. Their heads are made of granite, and are empty within.

And the most laughable thing of all--these ENJOY being failures, and relish their oft self-inflicted illnesses and dramas!

Morrissey was wrong to say what he said, but he and I are just the same as we were before he said it. We were bound long before Winnie Johnson. It's got him a record contract, two more book deals--and it's also got ME several more book deals, a film contract, and a possible US television series. I still like him, he still likes me, while neither of us has any time for the "danger" fans. These people have written some of the most ridiculous hate emails to me--one sent a picture of a cow, "crying" because its calf had been taken away! Most animals discard their young, it's nature--but this one, according to the fruit-loop who sent it, was crying because it had been told that its baby was going to the abattoir. Talk about being as daft as a brush!

To end on a hypothetical note--I wonder what these acknowledged lunatics would have to say if, for instance, their idol said that he admired Fred West. Would Morrissey-Parody and their "barmy-army" admire him too? Undoubtedly, they would! 

And if, God forbid, anything bad happened to this wonderful man--and I'm not taking the piss, this is how I see him, for with every silly theory that he has, there are a dozen very sensible ones--what would their reaction be, then? Would there be hundreds of charabancs rushing down to Beachy Head?

What a sad world they live in...

Sunday, 19 January 2014

I Am Not Russian


Small note...

The person who compares me with Putin is a slug of the lowest denomination and a hoofwanking homophobic bunglecunt of the highest order, and I hope they drop dead on the off-chance that they do not have the misfortune of ever meeting me face to face.

Okay?

Thursday, 9 January 2014

Thomas Hitzlsperger


There are three kinds of evil people in this world.
Homophobes,racists,and certain Sun journalists.
The first two contenders are only of use when pushing up daisies.
Sun journalists, or at least some of them, are just vile, but they trend and go with the flow. A couple of years ago one of them "got" me, accusing me of wanting it (they are not worthy of gender) to die in a smash on the M6. This was a lie~it was the M1.
Today, the Sun praises Thomas for coming out as a gay. They call him brave, and he is. He would have been braver to have come out before he retired,but such is tabloid poison that they would have made his life a misery. The Sun's arch hypocrisy comes with their statement, "The abuse from a morinic minority could have been career-ending."
I witnessed first-hand the tabloid destruction of Justin Fashinu. The chipwraps were merciless. They and the homophobes drove him to suicide. Stephen Gately definitely, and Tom Daley almost certainly only came out because, had they not done so, the tabloids would have done it for them.
I was indirectly "involved" with Stephen.That week, I appeared in just about every national newspaper with my "revelation" in my book that George Formby was a "camp icon".
"Was Formby a shirt-lifter," one hack phoned to ask me. "Are you yourself gay?"
The hack was going to print  some rubbish about us both. Then he called back, later that evening.
"We've decided to leave you and Formby alone," he announced, as if I should have been grateful. "We've got an exclusive on a boy band singer instead."
This was Stephen, who had been forced to tell his own story to keep it clean.
Stephen and Justin are sadly gone--one vile woman, against whom a friend and I raised a 300,000-name petition which was presented to the Prime Minister, and to no avail, said Stephen had died on account of his gay lifestyle.It turned out that he had had a heart condition.
In their memory, and ahead of what these horrible people will surely write about others in the future, I do not wish them dead as I would other homophobes, but a long life which will see them suffer more and more each day.
There is no need for it. And of course, there will be doubtless seedy stories about Thomas,who will have to stay strong.  

The Duggan Case: A Personal Opinion

This is what Sky News have to say, just now:

David Cameron has appealed for a calm response to the inquest verdict that Mark Duggan was lawfully killed by a police marksman despite being unarmed.
The Prime Minister said he hoped people would respect the "proper judicial process" and welcomed the stance taken by Mr Duggan's aunt Carole, who said she wanted "no more violence".
Earlier one of the Metropolitan Police's most senior officers told Sky News the force could have shown "better transparency" in its response to the shooting.
Assistant Commissioner Mark Rowley was responding to allegations that officers may have colluded when they put together their notes of the incident.
He told 
  1. ...
Sky's Crime Correspondent Martin Brunt: "We've already made some changes and I think there's more we can do.
"Every officer has to give their own account of what they recollect, so while they're witnesses, they're sitting down, they're making statements and they put hundreds of pages of evidence into the IPCC - it has to be their own accounts.
"Clearly, the way that was done, there's ways we could have better transparency, more clear supervision and we've put some changes in place."

My opinion. Another waste of tax-payers' money for an already strapped for cash police force. It doesn't matter whether he threw the gun away or not, the fact is that he had one, and the officer didn't know this at the time. The families of these criminals are all the same. "Our little Jimmy was an angel!" If you carry a gun around with you, you need to accept the consequences. The jury spent long enough delivering their verdict. The family should not be allowed to appeal, unless they pay for it themselves.

M

Wednesday, 8 January 2014

A Great English Historical Site Does Not Need Gypsies Messing It Up


In March 1461, Towton was the scene of the bloodiest battle on British soil. I published a book about it. It is a beautiful place to visit, and intensely moving. We went there on Palm Sunday when there was a snowstorm, so it wasn't hard to imagine what those poor soldiers went through.

Now, on today's news, we learn that Towton has been invaded by gypsies--I refuse to pander to political correctness and call them travellers. They are dirty, filthy, scrounging oiks, most of then on benefits, and most of  whom would steal the milk out of your tea. They live the way that they do, some in luxurious caravans, at the expense of the tax-payer. We had them where we lived, some years ago, and they took some getting rid of--eventually, a few of them bumped into a few anxious, angry residents after dark, and soon afterwards they not surprisingly left, with a few black eyes but leaving tons of rubbish behind them.

Many thousands of young men died at Towton, and we do not want their memories besmirched by having this rabble stomping over their graves. Maybe if they awoke one morning to find that there was a re-enactment of the battle, with 20,000 angry men on horseback riding up from Cock Beck to flatten their hovels, then maybe they might get the hint and leave.

Tuesday, 7 January 2014

Cybulsky


Zbigniew Cybulsky, the great love of Marlene Dietrich, who died on 8 January 1967 after falling under the train she was on, after kissing her goodbye. A whole chapter of our book is dedicated to him. She sobbed when talking about him. She wrote a song in his memory, which she included on the album we did together. A great man, and a great actor.

Monday, 6 January 2014

A Typical Day In The Life Of A Morrissey Fanatic

Dedicated to Kirk, The Original Surrey With The Fringe (but never the minge) On Top


Kirk wakes up early while it's still gloomy, then realises it's mid-day and leaves the curtains closed to keep up the good atmosphere.

Lights a lemon-scented candle and pops on a disc: Last Night I Dreamed Somebody Loves Me.

In front of the cracked wardrobe mirror, squeezes a pimple and admires the bags under his eyes~decides he isn't pale enough and reached for his compact and applies a healthy coating of embalming powder .

Develops morning glory looking at Morrissey--ie, himself--in the mirror. Slaps his wrists: naughty boy, doing things like that brings pleasure, and Moz would not approve.

Goes into the kitchen, gets out his Moz bowl and cutlery, pops on a song, Meat Is Murder, and dances around the stove while the bacon is frying, pausing to squeeze another pimple.

Decides not to shave today, as he hopes it will be his last. Checks cupboard to make sure his sleeping-pills are still there for when the big moment comes. The coffin's up in the loft, full of stained Smiths T-shirts.

Eats his bacon and tofu sandwich and curses because that goddam morning wood will not go down. Goes back upstairs and puts on his 1950s retro taupe trousers, the ones with the hole in the knee. Calls his friend, Jason, and they have phone sex~this involves no touching of body parts or production of fluids, but sensual conversation about chickens and Michael Stipe's socks. Their simultaneous climax involves bringing up their breakfast when Jason pops on a record: Meet Me At The Cemetery Gates.

Leaving the house, Kirk catches the bus into town. He hands copies of "The Autobiography" to the other passengers, who gaze in amazement thinking they are watching a scene from Zombie Holocaust. In the shopping mall, Kirk thinks about going to the loo and relieving himself of his tiresome morning glory, only when he gets there, the toilet is clean and still has a seat--not the kind of luxury he is used to. Compensation comes via the tannoy, which is playing We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful and Kirk realises he is not the only loser in the world.

After sniffing the vegetarian Durex lube in Boots, Kirk meets Jason for lunch at McDonalds. Jason says he fancies a Big Mac, but the Scotsman says he isn't into having sex with the dead~even when accompanied by Kirk whining Angel, Down We Go Together. It takes the friends an hour to persuade the assistant to serve them, as last year they tried to sue the company from selling Happy Meals, even if one meal in every ten did include a plastic replica of Charles Hawtrey's dentures.

After lunch, Kirk and Jason head for the park to feed the ducks. The local Hindu taxi-driver is there, and Kirk asks him if he fancies an Asian Rut, only to be told that on account of him not wishing to contract another nasty dose of Skin Storm, the dusky beauty only tangos with Suedeheads. 

"This darned morning glory,"Kirk moans. "Jason, do you fancy making Pashernate Love?"

"There Speaks A True Friend," Jason replies. "But Moz would not approve. Come on, let's go and have a cup of Bovril! You'll soon forget about how Such A Little Thing Makes A Big Difference when we hit the afternoon National Front Disco!"

Off they go to the local palais, arriving just as the stripper is coming off the stage. She sees the bulge in Kirk's retro taupe trousers.

"Hiya, babe," she says. "You look like you're packing wood. Would you like me to relieve you of your Glamorous Glue?"

"Sheila, Take A Bow," Jason growls. "My trouser-snake may appear sea-sick, but it's staying docked!"

Then, after going to the toilet and getting high after sniffing Vim, Kirk returns to the dance-floor where in his haze of misery--they're playing Jack The Ripper, which really gets the juices flowing--he sees the ghost of Cyril Smith.

"You're The One For Me, Fatty!" he screams, ripping off his clothes so that all he is wearing is his Milletts string-vest and a brown-toothed smile.

The music stops and Kirk and Cyril get onto the stage, wondering if the crowd will be Disappointed. 

Three shakes of the wrist and a slight trickle of warmth, and for Kirk it's all over. Kirk, however, feels as happy as The Last Of The Famous International Playboys. Tonight, when he gets home he will celebrate by changing the sheets on the bed, instead of waiting until the end of the year, and he will write a very special poem to his god~which will be delivered to Morrissey on a silver platter, carried into his Carole Lombard room by a Nubian slave, neatly tucked away under his plate of Betty's hot-pot.

And Morrissey will say, "Lo and behold, yet another of my fans who is both gullible and a wanker!"






Is This International Religion Brainwashing Week?

It all started a month ago, actually, and in this month my street has received SEVEN visits (I prefer to call them infestations) from Jehovah's Witnesses and Evangelists. Next we had Morrissey glorifying (for want of a better expression) paedophilia and murder by likening it to eating meat. Yesterday, that vile boxer making equally vile homophobic remarks on Big Brother. One wonders what HIS reaction would have been if that young woman had begun spouting about black people. And now, Maureen Greaves, who in my opinion can only be an essential shilling short of the pound.
This morning in breakfast TV she is spouting Jesus and the Bible. There's nothing wrong with this, and yes, Jesus did say we should forgive people their sins. I and millions of others like me do not, and think that such people are not just brainwashed, but barking mad.
Killers, and brutal killers like these who killed an innocent man for seemingly no reason, do not need to be forgiven. They need to be locked up for life which means life, and in severe cases should be hanged. Our problem is that we are too soft with them. And silly woman like Maureen Greaves serve only to promote this softness, despite her terrible tragedy.

Widow forgives husband's killers

Widow forgives husband's killers
Church organist Alan Greaves’ widow, Maureen Greaves, has said she has no hate and unforgiveness for his killers. The long-serving Church Army evangelist insisted she would be praying for those convicted and that she hoped that "God’s great mercy will inspire them to true repentance".
Alan Greaves, a 68-year-old church organist, was violently attacked on Christmas Eve on the way to midnight communion at St Saviour's Church in Sheffield.
Ashley Foster, 22, was cleared of murder but found guilty of manslaughter at Sheffield Crown Court and Jonathan Bowling, 22, has already admitted murdering Mr Greaves. Both men were sentenced today.
In an interview on Daybreak Maureen talked about forgiveness being what Alan would have wanted: “I have never found forgiveness easy but during our marriage we have worked together on forgiving people and finding grace through God to forgive people. He [Alan] had this wonderful statement ‘don’t give yourself permission to go down this road’.
“When I was by his bedside on Christmas Day I looked at him and I knew he would be saying: 'Come on Maureen, you have come such a long way, don’t slip back into hatred and unforgiveness.' I held his hand and I gave the men into God’s hands and asked God to deal with them and to give me the grace to truly forgive. During the six months of this journey I have constantly had to turn back to that prayer to keep on forgiving them.
“Alan died on Christmas Eve and only a few minutes away from a service that he was going to rejoice that the saviour had come. For Christians we believe that the saviour of the world had come to forgive people’s sins… As Jesus forgives us he asks us to forgive others. It is truly through the grace and love of God that I have been able to forgive Ashley and Jonathan and continue to forgive them.”  Watch the full Daybreak interview.
Church Army chief executive, Mark Russell, said: "All of us here at Church Army have been shocked and devastated since finding out about Alan's murder on Christmas Eve. 
"However, I would like to take this opportunity to pay tribute to Maureen, who over the past months has shown such enormous courage and faith through a really dreadful time. She has been an inspiration to the whole world and everyone at Church Army loves her and is so proud of her.
"It has been a privilege to be with her and support her during the trial. I'd also like to thank South Yorkshire Police for the way they've helped Maureen through this complicated legal process."

You might also be interested in

Sunday, 5 January 2014

Evander Holyfield Disciplined For Homophobic Comments

Vile, Bible-bashing, homophobic lump of dirt. Mike Tyson should have bitten off more than his ear. He well-deserved that public warning. Let's hope he is the first to be voted out and sent packing. And this creep has eleven children? God help them.

Holyfield sparks anger with 'homophobic' comments on Celebrity Big Brother

By Martin Domin
|

Evander Holyfield sparked a Twitter storm on Sunday night when he classed homosexuality as a disability and claimed it could be 'fixed'.
The former four-time heavyweight champion of the world made the comments during his stay in the Celebrity Big Brother house.
He was later warned for his outburst, to which he replied he was merely stating his opinion.
Holyfield was being quizzed by The Apprentice runner-up Luisa Zissman about whether any boxers had come out as gay.
Homophobic comments: Evander Holyfield compared being gay to having a handicap
Homophobic comments: Evander Holyfield compared being gay to having a handicap
She said: 'I think it’s really bad that no-one stands up and says it in the sporting industries. I think it’s good to be open about that because it’s normal.'
But Holyfield replied: 'What would be good about it? That ain’t normal.'
The 51-year-old went on to say: 'It is a choice, come on, that ain’t the way nobody is made.
'If you were born and your leg were turned this way, what do you do, you go to the doctor and get it fixed back right.'
Holyfield was later called to the diary room.
'Before you entered the Big Brother house, the rules regarding unacceptable language and behaviour were explained to you. Last night, in a conversation with Luisa, you expressed the view that being gay was not normal and that it could be fixed,' explained Big Brother.

Telling off: Evander was called in to the Diary Room to be told off for his comments
Telling off: Evander was called in to the Diary Room to be told off for his comments

'While Big Brother understands these are the views you hold, they aren’t the views that are held by a large section of society and expressing these views will be extremely offensive to many people. Do you understand why?'
Holyfield replied: 'Yeah I understand why, I forgot about the thing. I was just telling her my opinion, but it’s not like I was gonna mention it to anybody else, that was just our conversation.'
He was then warned and later put up for eviction alongside Zissman after the pair failed to complete a series of challenges.
In the action: Holyfield pictured boxing in 2010 against Francois Botha in Las Vegas
In the action: Holyfield pictured boxing in 2010 against Francois Botha in Las Vegas

The Big Brother transcript

Luisa: Is there any gay boxers?
Evander: Yeah, I’m sure there is.
Luisa: Is it public knowledge?
Evander: Ain’t no-one came out and said they were.
Luisa: I think it’s really bad that no-one stands up and says it in the sporting industries. I think it’s good to be open about that because it’s normal.
Evander: What would be good about it? That ain’t normal.
Luisa: We shouldn’t have this conversation. No, let’s not have this conversation, it won’t be good.
Evander: The bible lets you know, that’s wrong, that’s right.
Luisa: That’s just the way some people are.
Luisa, Evander
Evander: No, it don’t make no difference. If you were born and your leg were turned this way, what do you do, you go to the doctor and get it fixed back right.
Luisa: It’s not about being fixed, it’s about… that’s just the way that you are.
Evander: No no no no no, you mean to tell me…
Luisa: I really don’t want to have this conversation.
Evander: I’m not mad, I’m just saying…
Luisa: You don’t understand, I don’t think it’s an appropriate conversation to have in this house, honestly.
Evander: All I’m trying to tell you, you know how handicapped people are born, you can’t say because they were born that way…
Luisa: You can’t compare, of course you can’t compare someone that’s gay to someone that’s handicapped, it’s not a choice.
Evander: Yes it is a choice, come on, that ain’t the way nobody is made.
Luisa: I’m tired. I don’t think people have a choice in their sexuality, or they would be unhappy.

Today, Big Brother called Evander to the Diary Room to caution him about offensive language, but stopped short of giving him an formal reprimand.
“Before you entered the Big Brother house, the rules regarding unacceptable language and behaviour were explained to you. Last night, in a conversation with Luisa, you expressed the view that being gay was not normal and that it could be fixed,” explained Big Brother.
“While Big Brother understands these are the views you hold, they aren’t the views that are held by a large section of society and expressing these views will be extremely offensive to many people. Do you understand why?”
“Yeah I understand why, I forgot about the thing,” Evander answered. “I was just telling her my opinion, but it’s not like I was gonna mention it to anybody else, that was just our conversation.”
“Big Brother does not tolerate the use of offensive language and must therefore warn you to consider very carefully the effect expressing such views may have and the harm and offence you may cause by repeating these views inside the house,” the all-seeing eye continued. “Do you understand, Evander?”
“Okay then,” said Evander. “Yes I do.”


Open Letter To Capitol Records Regarding Morrissey Comments




Open Letter To Capitol Records, 2785 East Grand Blvd, Detroit, Michigan 48211, USA.


It has come to our attention that you may have assigned the singer Morrissey to a record contract. We, as a former biographer and supporter of this controversial singer, would like to draw your attention to the very serious and upsetting comments he has recently made, wherein he states that eating meat is no more serious a crime than rape, torture and paedophilia, who cheapens a heinous crime and equates the deaths of children by likening this to the food we find on supermarket shelves? Do you, as a world-renowned and hugely respected company, really wish your name to be involved with a man like this? A man who asks a world famous cook if he would be willing to microwave his own children? I ask you lo look into your hearts and consider the feelings of the likes of Sara Payne, Matthew Sheppard, and relatives of the victims of Ian Huntley, when they are now told that the deaths of their loved ones are no less important than had they been animals? Equally bad is the reaction to this statement by die-hard Morrissey fans, who have been brainwashed by this man for many years and who cling to his every word, and therefore may only be regarded as no less irresponsible and in many respects potentially as dangerous as he is. Do we need our children and future generations to be convinced by this sadly very influential public figure that hurting and killing children is no different than killing animals for the table. I ask you, as one of the world's most respected record companies, how you would feel should there be some horrible crime committed~think of all the school shootings there have been~because one unbalanced Morrissey fan decided to take it upon himself that human life is no more valuable than that of a chicken? I ask you, is this the sort of "artiste" that Capitol Records wants on its books? 

David Bret.
5th January 2014

Wednesday, 1 January 2014

Buffon: One Of The Greatest Italians Who Ever Lived!


Having always supported the Italian national team--NEVER England or France--I was delighted to meet some of my heroes recently while visiting and working in Milan. We socialised with some of them, one does have a boyfriend who was utterly delightful, and we still keep in touch. Gigi has always been a particular hero, perhaps the greatest goalkeeper of all time. Like me, he hates homophobes and racists. Here's what he had to say the other day.


Italian footballer Gianluigi Buffon says if he had gay team mate he’d only hope he’d win games Juventus captain Gianluigi Buffon has said that his only concern about having a gay team mate would be about how good a player he was and not about his sexuality 31 December 2013 | By Andrew Potts Photo by Wikipedia Juventus goalkeeper and captain Gianluigi Buffon has told Football Italia that he would have no problems if his club hired an openly gay player and that if it did his only concern would be whether he was a good footballer or not. ‘If Juve bought one, my only wish is that he’d win us games,’ Buffon, who also captain’s Italy’s national team, said in an interview yesterday. However Buffon said he didn’t believe he had had a gay team mate during his career to date – closeted or otherwise. ‘I don’t think I have ever played with a homosexual player,’ Buffon said. Buffon made the comments in response to questions about racism and other forms of prejudice in the sport, adding that he thought there should be consequences when fans engage in intolerant chants - while admitting that he had taken part in them when he was younger. ‘I think it’s fair to severely punish for some forms of intolerance,’ Buffon said, ‘I do not presume to fully understand the kind of abuse some players get.’ ‘I can’t have the same sensitivity to those who are affected by the attacks, but punishment is important for the image of Italian football.’ Related Terms: News Association football Buffon Captain FIFA 100 FIFA World Cup Football in Italy footballer Gianluigi Gianluigi Buffon Gianluigi Buffon goalkeeper and captain Juve Juventus F.C. Person Career player Login or register to post comments - See more at: http://www.gaystarnews.com/article/italian-footballer-gianluigi-buffon-says-if-he-had-gay-team-mate-he’d-only-hope-he’d-win-gam#sthash.hrqQgApF.hhUGzhwt.dpuf