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Author Topic: For the Benefit of Brits!  (Read 6280 times)

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Offline TBWG

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For the Benefit of Brits!
« on: November 21, 2009, 09:10:10 AM »
    The article by Jeremy Clarkson was in this week's Sunday Times but has since been 'pulled' - probably by the subject of the article, Peter Mandelson. So much for free speech. But poor old manglebum fails to appreciate how the blogsphere works and in no time the article finds itself going viral round the world. Wonderful. Enjoy it - and feel free to pass it on if you enjoyed it.....

    Jeremy Clarkson

    Sunday Times 8/11/09

I’ve given the matter a great deal of thought all week, and I’m afraid I’ve decided that it’s no good putting Peter Mandelson in a prison. I’m afraid he will have to be tied to the front of a van and driven round the country until he isn’t alive any more.
He announced last week that middle-class children will simply not be allowed into the country’s top universities even if they have 4,000 A-levels, because all the places will be taken by Albanians and guillemots and whatever other stupid bandwagon the conniving idiot has leapt

I hate Peter Mandelson. I hate his fondness for extremely pale blue jeans and I hate that preposterous moustache he used to sport in the days when he didn’t bother trying to cover up his left-wing fanaticism. I hate the way he quite literally lords it over us even though he’s resigned in disgrace twice, and now holds an important decision-making job for which he was not elected. Mostly, though, I hate him because his one-man war on the bright and the witty and the successful means that half my friends now seem to be taking leave of their senses.

There’s talk of emigration in the air. It’s everywhere I go. Parties. Work. In the supermarket. My daughter is working herself half to death to get good grades at GSCE and can’t see the point because she won’t be going to university, because she doesn’t have a beak or flippers or a qualification in washing windscreens at the lights. She wonders, often, why we don’t live in America ...

Then you have the chaps and chapesses who can’t stand the constant raids on their wallets and their privacy. They can’t understand why they are taxed at 50% on their income and then taxed again for driving into the nation’s capital. They can’t understand what happened to the hunt for the weapons of mass destruction. They can’t understand anything. They see the Highway Wombles in those brand new 4x4s that they paid for, and they see the M4 bus lane and they see the speed cameras and the community support officers and they see the Albanians stealing their wheelbarrows and nothing can be done because it’s racist.

And they see Alistair Darling handing over £4,350 of their money to not sort out the banking crisis that he doesn’t understand because he’s a small-town solicitor, and they see the stupid war on drugs and the war on drink and the war on smoking and the war on hunting and the war on fun and the war on scientists and the obsession with the climate and the price of train fares soaring past £1,000 and the Guardian power-brokers getting uppity about one shot baboon and not uppity at all about all the dead soldiers in Afghanistan, and how they got rid of Blair only to find the lying twerp is now going to come back even more powerful than ever, and they think, “I’ve had enough of this. I’m off.”

It’s a lovely idea, to get out of this stupid, Fairtrade, Brown-stained, Mandelson-skewed, equal-opportunities, multicultural, carbon-neutral, trendily left, regionally assembled, big-government, trilingual, mosque-drenched, all-the-pigs-are-equal, property-is-theft hellhole and set up shop somewhere else. But where?

You can’t go to France because you need to complete 17 forms in triplicate every time you want to build a greenhouse, and you can’t go to Switzerland because you will be reported to your neighbours by the police and subsequently shot in the head if you don’t sweep your lawn properly, and you can’t go to Italy because you’ll soon tire of waking up in the morning to find a horse’s head in your bed because you forgot to give a man called Don a bundle of used notes for “organising” a plumber.

You can’t go to Australia because it’s full of things that will eat you, you can’t go to New Zealand because they don’t accept anyone who is more than 40 and you can’t go to Monte Carlo because they don’t accept anyone who has less than 40 mill. And you can’t go to Spain because you’re not called Del and you weren’t involved in the Walthamstow blag. And you can’t go to Germany ..... because you just can’t.

The Caribbean sounds tempting, but there is no work, which means that one day, whether you like it or not, you’ll end up like all the other expats, with a nose like a burst beetroot, wondering if it’s okay to have a small sharpener at 10 in the morning. And, as I keep explaining to my daughter, we can’t go to America because if you catch a cold over there, the health system is designed in such a way that you end up without a house. Or dead.

Canada’s full of people pretending to be French, South Africa’s too risky, Russia’s worse and everywhere else is too full of snow, too full of flies or too full of people who want to cut your head off on the internet. So you can dream all you like about upping sticks and moving to a country that doesn’t help itself to half of everything you earn and then spend the money it gets on bus lanes and advertisements about the dangers of salt. But wherever you go you’ll wind up an alcoholic or dead or bored or in a cellar, in an orange jumpsuit, gently wetting yourself on the web. All of these things are worse than being persecuted for eating a sandwich at the wheel.

I see no reason to be miserable. Yes, Britain now is worse than it’s been for decades, but the lunatics who’ve made it so ghastly are on their way out. Soon, they will be back in Hackney with their South African nuclear-free peace polenta. And instead the show will be run by a bloke whose dad has a wallpaper shop and possibly, terrifyingly, a twerp in Belgium whose fruitless game of hunt-the-WMD has netted him £15m on the lecture circuit.

So actually I do see a reason to be miserable. Which is why I think it’s a good idea to tie Peter Mandelson to a van. Such an act would be cruel and barbaric and inhuman. But it would at least cheer everyone up a bit. onto in the meantime.



TBWG sawadi

Lourens

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Re: For the Benefit of Brits!
« Reply #1 on: November 22, 2009, 10:58:30 AM »
I'm not British but at least I can sympathize. But whatever you do, don't mention Thailand to all those Brits that wants to emigrate. At least the Thai government has the savvy to curb immigration and make it somewhat difficult to settle here. I think for this reason alone, Thailand is one of the best places to be anywhere in the world. The farang will never have such an influence on Thai government as to alter their policies. I applaud that and wish it will not change to reach a state where foreign governments dictate how Thailand should be managed. I have seen this in South Africa and it wasn't pretty. South Africa was put back by at least 50 years as far as its development goes and it looks like the same is now happening in Britain.

BTW, I like Jeremy Clarkson’s work.

Offline pbee

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Re: For the Benefit of Brits!
« Reply #2 on: November 22, 2009, 05:20:30 PM »
Thanks for the post,excellent. Clarkson,s a top man in my opinion. The only reason I buy the SUN on Saturdays,is for his column. Your not missing much in the UK,so don't get homesick.By the way VAT goes back to 17.5% in January Happy new year sadbar

Offline Andrew Hicks

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Re: For the Benefit of Brits!
« Reply #3 on: November 23, 2009, 09:30:20 AM »
Clarkson is one of the funniest writers and broadcasters ever!

When it comes to politics and stuff, leaving aside the caricature, I'd love to know what he really thinks.

Andrew Hicks

Offline TBWG

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Re: For the Benefit of Brits!
« Reply #4 on: November 24, 2009, 09:58:29 PM »
Another gem floating around the web!

ACTUAL PASSPORT  LETTER-- ---

 

This letter is a thing of great beauty (even if the language is a bit strong)…You definitely feel the guy's pain! 

 

Dear  Sirs,

 

I'm in the process of renewing my passport, and still cannot believe this.  How is it that Sky Television has my address and telephone number and knows that I bought a bleeding satellite dish from them back in 1977, and yet, the Government is still asking me where I was bloody born and on what date.

 

For Christ sakes, do you guys do this by hand?  My birth date you have on my pension book, and it is on all the income tax forms I've filled for the past 30 years. It is on my nbsp;National Health card, my driving license, my car insurance, on the last eight damn passports I've had, on all those stupid customs declaration forms I've had to fill out before being allowed off the plane over the last 30 years, and all those insufferable census forms.

 

Would somebody please take note, once and for all, that my mother's name is Mary Anne, my father's name is Robert and I'd be abso-fucking-lutely astounded if that ever changed between now and when I die!!!!!!

 

I apologise, I'm really pissed off this morning. Between you an' me, I've had enough of  this bullshit!  You send the application to my house, then you ask me for my fucking address !!!!

 

What is going on?  Do you have a gang of Neanderthal arseholes workin' there?  Look at my damn  picture.  Do I look  like Bin Laden?  I don't want to  dig up Yasser Arafat, for shit sakes.  I just want to go and  park my arse on some sandy beach somewhere. And would someone please tell me, why would you give a shit whether I plan on visiting a farm in the  next 15 days?   If I ever got the urge to do something weird  to a chicken or a goat, believe you me, you’d be the last fucking people I’d want to tell!

 

Well, I have to go now, 'cause I have to go to the other end of the poxy city to get another fucking copy of my birth certificate, to the tune of £30.  Would it be so complicated  to have all the services in the same spot to assist in the issuance of a new passport the same day?? Nooooooooooooo, that'd be too damn easy and maybe makes sense.  You'd  rather have us  running all over the fuckin' place like chickens with our heads cut off, then have to find some arsehole to confirm that it's really me on the damn picture - you know, the one where we're not allowed to smile?! (bureaucratic fuckin' morons)  Hey, do you know why we couldn’t smile if we wanted to? Because we’re totally pissed off!

 

Signed

An Irate Citizen.

 

P.S. Remember what I said above about the picture and g etting someone to confirm that it's me?  Well, my family has been in this country since 1776 ........ I have served in the military for something over 30 years and have had full security clearances over 25 of those years enabling me to undertake highly secretive missions all over the world. ........  However, I have to get someone 'important' to verify who I am - you know, someone like my doctor WHO WAS BORN AND RAISED IN FUCKING PAKISTAN !

Sincerely,




Nice one TBWG sawadi

 

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