Hello,
I'm not one of these proud to be a woman types. Not because there's anything wrong with being female but it's not something I had an awful lot to do with. To be proud of it would be like being proud of having big feet, it's just how I was born. I'm happy enough with that, although key moments of my life have been ruined for lack of a penis. Ideally I'd like to be able to switch genders at will but nature is not known for her generosity on the gender front. That said every so often a woman does something so heroic, courageous and downright brilliant that one does get the urge to strut around saying 'that's one of my lot' and basking in a bit of reflected glory. What can I say I'm a awful glory seeker.
I am referring to the brave and defiant Ms Lubna Hussein who has been sentenced to forty lashes by the savages that run Sudan for wearing trousers. What makes this woman so remarkable and sets her apart from most of the rest of us is that as an employee of the UN she was offered immunity by the Sundanese authorities. Instead of grabbing this opportunity with both hands she resigned from the UN in order to take the punishment and use her case to highlight the despicable behaviour of these sexually inadequate brutes.
Funnily enough these upstanding moral guardians are notoriously dishonest and regularly demand sexual favours from the women they arrest. You might feel a sliver of pity for these repellent chaps for being unable to get laid without using force but I'm inclined to repress that and send that portion of the pity ration to someone more deserving like Donald Trump. At least the thieving, lying, raping morality police get to feel good about themselves. In contrast Trump must sob himself to sleep thinking about that hair.
Whilst I would indulge in a cheeky lady chuckle if the world's women formed an army, invaded Sudan and strung every last member of their government up, the prospect is quite unlikely. Instead I have sent a letter, well more a miracle of restraint of to the Sudanese Embassy asking if they wouldn't mind giving the lashes a miss. Obviously what I wanted to write was 'would you wretched pigs do the world a favour and kill yourselves' but it's not terribly persuasive is it? The small penis jibes and wicked curses also hit the cutting room floor as did the threats to set fire to the ambassadors testicles and steal his Ferrero Rocher. Still it's hard to appeal to the better side of people who are so uniformly fucking awful, so it was a very short letter.
If anyone else is as eye poppingly angry about this as I am please write a polite letter to the Sudanese Embassy at 3 Cleveland Row, London, SW1A 1DD. For the sort of people who turn up on Reporting Scotland vox pops if you could put about one hundredth of the energy into supporting Ms Hussein as you do into worrying just how vast your arse looks in trousers and get an adult to help you with a letter to the Sudanese Embassy you might be able to point to at least one useful thing you've done in your pointless bovine life. There is also a petition to sign here.
Cheerio
Showing posts with label injustice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label injustice. Show all posts
12/04/2008
Free and Well Fed!
Hello,
It's a while since I last blogged but I've been experiencing a period of rapid change. I was made redundant last week and started my new job this week.
I hate to get too excited too soon but it appears to be going rather well,in that I have been given a free rein to organise my job as I see fit. In my last job I was micro-managed according to a secret and ever changing set of rules. In this one I could set fire to the office and they'd understand. It's like self-employment with the security of employment. In other words -a dream.
The gist of my role is ensuring folk who've returned to work or taken their first job after six months plus on benefits are getting in work benefits and are managing their finances. The aim of which is to help them stay in work. In other words helping folk make the best of themselves rather than claiming their way into a stupor.
As ever I'm baffled by the benefit system's hostility to independance. You'd think a government that wanted people off benefits and into work might do something to make the transition much easier. To be fair there is help available but as far as I can gather if people go and find work themselves and decline to take up the time of DWP staff looking for work they've had it.
I met a very pleasant lady this week who'd been a heroin addict for twenty years and in receipt of Incapacity Benefit who took a job she'd found herself eighteen months ago. Naturally she was verbally refused a benefit run on and job grant because she didn't tell Jobcentre staff she was looking for work. This has left her with rent arrears, council tax arrears and a fair bit of debt. The situation was made worse by her ostrich like refusal to deal with the situation until it got critical. It isn't helped by the government taxing her meagre income either. Still I'm hopeful I can do something for her. Plan A involves negotiation and begging. Plan B involves bankruptcy.
I don't deny her situation is self-inflicted but kicking a woman when she's down is bad enough, kicking her while she's trying to get back on her feet is wicked. This government is fond of slogans so here's one for them how about Tough to Claim, Easy to Work. Then again that bunch of congenital liars would only fail to live up to it.
Finally I must inform you all of a culinary treat lurking in the Govanhill area. For the love of God get yourself along to Delicious Corner (232 Allison Street, Glasgow,G42 8RT). It's Greggs for Muslims in that it offers a small selection of pastry delights filled with halal meat. Happily for the vegetarians their are vegetable samosas which are the food of the Gods. Delicious moist but not greasy flaky pastry, huge in size and plesantly spiced they slip down like a dream and may well be as addictive as crack cocaine. Only 50p a pop. I'm not often tempted by meat but they do spicy chicken balls the size of a man's fist for about 70p a go and I must admit to contemplating chicken murder as I gazed upon them. They do all the usual fare like sausage rolls, pasties and the like as well which my accomplice assures me are very tasty. All I can tell you is that they are unusually large.
All lovers of Asian food must tell everyone they know -the last thing we want is Delicious Corner going the way of the wonderous and much missed Pakistani Cafe.
Cheerio
It's a while since I last blogged but I've been experiencing a period of rapid change. I was made redundant last week and started my new job this week.
I hate to get too excited too soon but it appears to be going rather well,in that I have been given a free rein to organise my job as I see fit. In my last job I was micro-managed according to a secret and ever changing set of rules. In this one I could set fire to the office and they'd understand. It's like self-employment with the security of employment. In other words -a dream.
The gist of my role is ensuring folk who've returned to work or taken their first job after six months plus on benefits are getting in work benefits and are managing their finances. The aim of which is to help them stay in work. In other words helping folk make the best of themselves rather than claiming their way into a stupor.
As ever I'm baffled by the benefit system's hostility to independance. You'd think a government that wanted people off benefits and into work might do something to make the transition much easier. To be fair there is help available but as far as I can gather if people go and find work themselves and decline to take up the time of DWP staff looking for work they've had it.
I met a very pleasant lady this week who'd been a heroin addict for twenty years and in receipt of Incapacity Benefit who took a job she'd found herself eighteen months ago. Naturally she was verbally refused a benefit run on and job grant because she didn't tell Jobcentre staff she was looking for work. This has left her with rent arrears, council tax arrears and a fair bit of debt. The situation was made worse by her ostrich like refusal to deal with the situation until it got critical. It isn't helped by the government taxing her meagre income either. Still I'm hopeful I can do something for her. Plan A involves negotiation and begging. Plan B involves bankruptcy.
I don't deny her situation is self-inflicted but kicking a woman when she's down is bad enough, kicking her while she's trying to get back on her feet is wicked. This government is fond of slogans so here's one for them how about Tough to Claim, Easy to Work. Then again that bunch of congenital liars would only fail to live up to it.
Finally I must inform you all of a culinary treat lurking in the Govanhill area. For the love of God get yourself along to Delicious Corner (232 Allison Street, Glasgow,G42 8RT). It's Greggs for Muslims in that it offers a small selection of pastry delights filled with halal meat. Happily for the vegetarians their are vegetable samosas which are the food of the Gods. Delicious moist but not greasy flaky pastry, huge in size and plesantly spiced they slip down like a dream and may well be as addictive as crack cocaine. Only 50p a pop. I'm not often tempted by meat but they do spicy chicken balls the size of a man's fist for about 70p a go and I must admit to contemplating chicken murder as I gazed upon them. They do all the usual fare like sausage rolls, pasties and the like as well which my accomplice assures me are very tasty. All I can tell you is that they are unusually large.
All lovers of Asian food must tell everyone they know -the last thing we want is Delicious Corner going the way of the wonderous and much missed Pakistani Cafe.
Cheerio
4/07/2008
God It's Hard To Blog/ Save the Lollies
Hello,
It may be a peculiar quirk exclusive to me but it's bloody hard to blog when you're happy. Readers may be delighted to hear that I'm feeling very chipper. I've been very busy over the last week with my business stuff and was on a course in London over the weekend.
My tail is also in the air because I've just realised that my current business plan whilst good is rather too ambitious for a start up with my limited resources. I was chatting to someone over the weekend and suddenly realised that I've horribly over complicated everything. I need to sit down and do some hard sums and make a few phone calls but if I'm right I could be in business within the next couple of months. Not only that but I'll have the basis for a plan to expand my business within the next 18 months. I'm also grappling with a job application as I need a stop gap job while I'm getting started and this job pays a good £6000 per year more than my current one, is within walking distance of my home and if I'm honest is one of those made up jobs that provide one of the few skiving opportunities left to the 21st century worker. Assuming I'm successful I'd like to offer my sincere apologies to the tax payer but may it comfort them to know that they'll be helping to fund a business start up so it's not a complete waste.
Still that's enough about me. I want to draw your attention to the plight of the poor Lollipop men and women of Glasgow. The council in it's infinite wisdom has decided to get them picking up litter in addition to their other tasks. In fairness the council have given them a choice they can either pick up litter or take a cut in hours and pay.
Such is the climate of lunacy in the City Chambers they actually think this will make it easier to recruit new lollies. People this is how stupid they think we are and can you blame them? Why do we as a city trot along year after year and vote Labour muttering darkly that we 'cannae let a tory in'. My mums local councillor is a tory and having been in the position for roughly a million years is as pointless and complacent as any Labour councillor. Quite why the thought of a waster in a blue rosette is more terrifying than one in a red rosette has never been explained. All I know is that they must not be let in. Quite frankly I'm not fussy I'd rather The Natural Law Party were in charge than Labour.
Giving the poor lollies more work is an admission of failure on the part of the management of the cleansing department. Let's face it they've proven that the litter problem can be effectively managed -my fellow residents may recall how clean the city was when the Commonwealth Games application was under consideration. I'm awful for getting swept up in things but I foolishly thought that at last the council were starting to get it right. How wrong I was, we were like a fat man holding his stomach in as an attractive woman strolls by. As soon as the application was successful we let our muscles relax and started chucking half eaten kebabs about again.
Of course the wages paid to street sweepers are higher than those received by the lollies which has more to do with the decision than anything else. I understand that the council have a budget to work to and when limited funds are available sometimes cuts have to be made. However I presume the litter that is being dropped by school children and their half-witted parents on the way to school. So instead of making a badly paid but useful job harder why not get the schools involved and get the kiddiewinks litter picking? This would provide the children with an incentive not to drop litter, teach them an important lesson about actions and their consequences and make the place look better. Better still get them to sort the rubbish for recycling and teach them about all the marvellous things that can be made from rubbish if it's put in the correct place. It could be a nice little project for them they could write an essay on it or stand on a chair and bark or whatever it is they get up to in schools nowadays.
Failing that I note that councillors are now paid for their work surely with a bit of time management they could double up a litter pickers. I'm perfectly serious. I'd be rather impressed with any councillor willing to get their hands dirty and pitch in with the rest of us to improve the city. Unless of course our good 'socialist' councillors are far too grand for that sort of thing and would rather place the burden on the lowest paid workers instead.
It may be a peculiar quirk exclusive to me but it's bloody hard to blog when you're happy. Readers may be delighted to hear that I'm feeling very chipper. I've been very busy over the last week with my business stuff and was on a course in London over the weekend.
My tail is also in the air because I've just realised that my current business plan whilst good is rather too ambitious for a start up with my limited resources. I was chatting to someone over the weekend and suddenly realised that I've horribly over complicated everything. I need to sit down and do some hard sums and make a few phone calls but if I'm right I could be in business within the next couple of months. Not only that but I'll have the basis for a plan to expand my business within the next 18 months. I'm also grappling with a job application as I need a stop gap job while I'm getting started and this job pays a good £6000 per year more than my current one, is within walking distance of my home and if I'm honest is one of those made up jobs that provide one of the few skiving opportunities left to the 21st century worker. Assuming I'm successful I'd like to offer my sincere apologies to the tax payer but may it comfort them to know that they'll be helping to fund a business start up so it's not a complete waste.
Still that's enough about me. I want to draw your attention to the plight of the poor Lollipop men and women of Glasgow. The council in it's infinite wisdom has decided to get them picking up litter in addition to their other tasks. In fairness the council have given them a choice they can either pick up litter or take a cut in hours and pay.
Such is the climate of lunacy in the City Chambers they actually think this will make it easier to recruit new lollies. People this is how stupid they think we are and can you blame them? Why do we as a city trot along year after year and vote Labour muttering darkly that we 'cannae let a tory in'. My mums local councillor is a tory and having been in the position for roughly a million years is as pointless and complacent as any Labour councillor. Quite why the thought of a waster in a blue rosette is more terrifying than one in a red rosette has never been explained. All I know is that they must not be let in. Quite frankly I'm not fussy I'd rather The Natural Law Party were in charge than Labour.
Giving the poor lollies more work is an admission of failure on the part of the management of the cleansing department. Let's face it they've proven that the litter problem can be effectively managed -my fellow residents may recall how clean the city was when the Commonwealth Games application was under consideration. I'm awful for getting swept up in things but I foolishly thought that at last the council were starting to get it right. How wrong I was, we were like a fat man holding his stomach in as an attractive woman strolls by. As soon as the application was successful we let our muscles relax and started chucking half eaten kebabs about again.
Of course the wages paid to street sweepers are higher than those received by the lollies which has more to do with the decision than anything else. I understand that the council have a budget to work to and when limited funds are available sometimes cuts have to be made. However I presume the litter that is being dropped by school children and their half-witted parents on the way to school. So instead of making a badly paid but useful job harder why not get the schools involved and get the kiddiewinks litter picking? This would provide the children with an incentive not to drop litter, teach them an important lesson about actions and their consequences and make the place look better. Better still get them to sort the rubbish for recycling and teach them about all the marvellous things that can be made from rubbish if it's put in the correct place. It could be a nice little project for them they could write an essay on it or stand on a chair and bark or whatever it is they get up to in schools nowadays.
Failing that I note that councillors are now paid for their work surely with a bit of time management they could double up a litter pickers. I'm perfectly serious. I'd be rather impressed with any councillor willing to get their hands dirty and pitch in with the rest of us to improve the city. Unless of course our good 'socialist' councillors are far too grand for that sort of thing and would rather place the burden on the lowest paid workers instead.
12/18/2007
The Shame Continues
Hello,
Hard on the heels of my drunken episode comes news of Mr Clairwil going off the rails. He didn't even have the excuse of the demon drink which allows me to retain the moral high ground, though in his defence he was trying to 'rehabilitate' a junkie thief.
The sad thing is the junkie in question was almost quite decent in that he used to fund his habit by servicing chaps in various gay cruising spots in Glasgow. There was no need for him to turn to theft. I can only assume he did so out of selfishness, a disapproval of prostitution being somewhat absurd under the circumstances.
The facts of the matter are as follows, he was strolling along when he glanced in a shop window only to spot a junkie who had stolen a large amount of stock from his old shop. Incredibly the junkie actually seemed to have a job in the shop, which raised Mr Clairwil's hopes of getting his money back- he's a clever man but there are times when his naivety astonishes me. The poor soul doesn't realise that shame has been abolished and that far from being embarrassed the thief will perceive himself as the victim.
If only I'd been there. The whole reason people choose to addict themselves to smack is to absolve themselves of responsibility for their own lives, so there was and is no way he was ever going to be paid back. To the junkie it isn't his fault he steals, he's a helpless addict after all, instead he steals because the rest of us are wicked enough to own anything that isn't nailed down. Honestly I've no patience with junkies I've never met one that didn't turn into a bastard and I include two former friends in that both of whom I'd have gladly lain down my life for prior to their addiction. I had no hesitation in dropping them like hot bricks when they began to regard everyone around them as little more than a source of cash.
Which is why headbutting the creature was futile. Not to mention a silly thing to do in front of witnesses. More so when the witnesses sprang into action and sat on Mr Clairwil, refusing to let him go until he promised not to hit anyone. On reflection it's as well I wasn't there or I'd have started biting folk Tyson style. No one sits on Mr Clairwil on my watch.
That isn't the worst of it, while the staff were sat on Mr Clairwil one of them scratched him. Isn't that appalling! I don't know who is responsible, so I'm forced to punish the whole shop and so a vendetta is born.
Cheerio
Hard on the heels of my drunken episode comes news of Mr Clairwil going off the rails. He didn't even have the excuse of the demon drink which allows me to retain the moral high ground, though in his defence he was trying to 'rehabilitate' a junkie thief.
The sad thing is the junkie in question was almost quite decent in that he used to fund his habit by servicing chaps in various gay cruising spots in Glasgow. There was no need for him to turn to theft. I can only assume he did so out of selfishness, a disapproval of prostitution being somewhat absurd under the circumstances.
The facts of the matter are as follows, he was strolling along when he glanced in a shop window only to spot a junkie who had stolen a large amount of stock from his old shop. Incredibly the junkie actually seemed to have a job in the shop, which raised Mr Clairwil's hopes of getting his money back- he's a clever man but there are times when his naivety astonishes me. The poor soul doesn't realise that shame has been abolished and that far from being embarrassed the thief will perceive himself as the victim.
If only I'd been there. The whole reason people choose to addict themselves to smack is to absolve themselves of responsibility for their own lives, so there was and is no way he was ever going to be paid back. To the junkie it isn't his fault he steals, he's a helpless addict after all, instead he steals because the rest of us are wicked enough to own anything that isn't nailed down. Honestly I've no patience with junkies I've never met one that didn't turn into a bastard and I include two former friends in that both of whom I'd have gladly lain down my life for prior to their addiction. I had no hesitation in dropping them like hot bricks when they began to regard everyone around them as little more than a source of cash.
Which is why headbutting the creature was futile. Not to mention a silly thing to do in front of witnesses. More so when the witnesses sprang into action and sat on Mr Clairwil, refusing to let him go until he promised not to hit anyone. On reflection it's as well I wasn't there or I'd have started biting folk Tyson style. No one sits on Mr Clairwil on my watch.
That isn't the worst of it, while the staff were sat on Mr Clairwil one of them scratched him. Isn't that appalling! I don't know who is responsible, so I'm forced to punish the whole shop and so a vendetta is born.
Cheerio
10/11/2007
2000 Chickens on the Loose!
Hello,
I love chickens. They cluck, peck, hop and have feathers what's not to love? So imagine my delight when news reached my ears of two thousand of the birds loose on the motorway. Hurrah!
The lorry carrying the chickens jack-knifed, their cages burst and the birds made a bold bid for freedom. Unfortunately the authorities got involved and spoiled things as per bloody usual. The poor chickens were having a whale of a time racing about until some grassing bore called the police.
Then it all gets utterly predictable, the police brought in specialist chicken handlers and vets, the chickens were rounded up and the motorway was restored to a concrete stretch of ill tempered drivers sweating to Radio 2.
Obviously if I were in charge I would have allowed the chickens to take it over. They're animals and though wonderful are not terribly bright. The drivers claim to be human and though I have my suspicions there is no evidence to suggest otherwise, surely they could have found alternative routes and left the chickens alone. The chickens were not to blame -why should they be penalised?
Cheerio
I love chickens. They cluck, peck, hop and have feathers what's not to love? So imagine my delight when news reached my ears of two thousand of the birds loose on the motorway. Hurrah!
The lorry carrying the chickens jack-knifed, their cages burst and the birds made a bold bid for freedom. Unfortunately the authorities got involved and spoiled things as per bloody usual. The poor chickens were having a whale of a time racing about until some grassing bore called the police.
Then it all gets utterly predictable, the police brought in specialist chicken handlers and vets, the chickens were rounded up and the motorway was restored to a concrete stretch of ill tempered drivers sweating to Radio 2.
Obviously if I were in charge I would have allowed the chickens to take it over. They're animals and though wonderful are not terribly bright. The drivers claim to be human and though I have my suspicions there is no evidence to suggest otherwise, surely they could have found alternative routes and left the chickens alone. The chickens were not to blame -why should they be penalised?
Cheerio
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)