The Curmudgeon

YOU'LL COME FOR THE CURSES. YOU'LL STAY FOR THE MUDGEONRY.

Thursday, April 19, 2018

Fiendish New Tricks from the Great Satan

North Korea is very cynically and selfishly attempting to abdicate its role as the most convincing existential threat to the United States since Nicaragua, according to the president of South Korea. Moon Jae-in claimed that the North would require in return only the twin enormities of an end to perceived hostile policies and a guarantee of security; which under any normal US president would constitute an unacceptable violation of the World Cop's jurisdictional sovereignty. The Trumpster, doubtless inspired by the brilliant negotiating stance of Team Tessie against the sovereignty-plundering Euro-wogs, has confined himself to an assertion of willingness to walk away if Kim Jong-un's head-tribble should start yapping and spraying at his own.

North Korea has previously indicated a willingness to give up its independent nuclear deterrent in return for US withdrawal from South Korea and denuclearisation of the peninsula and Japan. As is mentioned in Britain's leading liberal newspaper, North and South Korea have been technically at war since the 1950-53 conflict when, as is unmentioned in Britain's leading liberal newspaper, the United States butchered a fifth of the North's population in collaboration with its South Korean allies, many of whom had been collaborators with Imperial Japan during the recent unplesasantness.

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

I Decide Who is a Jew

In the wake of the unflattering media exposure resulting from its Windrush persecutions, the Government has prudently re-classified two of the most prominent cases - a cancer patient who was denied treatment, and a special needs teacher who was denied employment - as honorary whites. As might be expected, there is already some doubt as to whether this latest promise about the NHS amounts to much more than any other pronouncement by the dead-eyed warden and her boot-boys. Even assuming the best, it remains an open question whether reprieve from deportation by a wave of Tin-Pot Tessie's hand, like some ghastly low-budget parody of royal clemency, will elicit the proper degree of gratitude from those still at risk of a dawn surprise from the Ministry of Wog Control.

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Gasping for Empire

Despite the prevalence among foreign populations of wogs, piccaninnies and the more expendable type of British citizen, it seems that the lesser breeds are making a sterling effort to emulate the Recrudescent Imperium's cleansing achievements. Getting rid of excess proles by means of a poisonous atmosphere is not solely the prerogative of the noxious flatulations of the Home Office and its colorectal cohorts in the scumbag press: the mayoral régime of the London Haystack managed great strides in the same race to the bottom purely by taking its ease and allowing matters to take their Brussels-defying course. Now the rest of the world is catching up: according to a study by the Health Effects Institute, less than five per cent of the world's population has access to clean air, and deaths from pollution across the globe are estimated to have increased almost twenty per cent in the past thirty years, and this despite the fiendish machinations of the Heathen Chinee. The Health Effects Institute does point out that gradual suffocation tends to interfere with the labour efficiency of human resource units; but it is to be hoped that the increasing scarcity of unpolluted air will foster an atmosphere of healthy competition that will ensure the survivors are worthy of service to their freshly-globalised Britannic masters.

Monday, April 16, 2018

Of All the Surprising Things to Happen

Even the most profound intellect is not immune from error, and even the most honourably-intentioned and well-thought-out policy may occasionally result in unforeseen and perhaps undesirable consequences. It will be self-evident from the foregoing that the subject under discussion is the Ministry for Wog Control and its hostile environment for swarming hordes of the Windrush persuasion, which has blown up rather spectacularly in the faces of Tumbledown Tessie and the Minister for Barbadian Tax Arrangements. Four years ago the previous Home Secretary, whoever that may have been, removed the legal protection afforded such people, doubtless while her Liberal Democrat coalition partners were distracted by issues of greater moment; and yet some evil stroke of fate has decreed that people whom the Home Office deliberately deprived of protection now have no protection from attack by the Home Office. Fortunately, nobody has been deported for lack of documentation, although some people may have been deported by accident; nobody seems to know just how many, but one can hardly expect the Ministry for Wog Control to bother about things like that - not while a single cockroach remains in Britain, especially when it could be making itself more useful helping to ready the Commonwealth for its great new task of propping up the British economy after Brexit. Comfortingly enough, the race-baiting Clegg-pledger in charge of the Home Office has promised that the Home Office will sort it all out.

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Bad Theology

Text for today: Luke 7 xxxvi-xlvii

While Jesus is dining with a Pharisee, a sinful woman appears with a jar of perfume and grovels at His feet, wetting them with her tears and drying them with her hair before pouring the perfume over them. When the Pharisee wonders if Jesus knows that a sinner is touching Him, Jesus tells a parable of two debtors whose debts were cancelled, the moral being that the relationship between God and humankind, far from having its basis in absolute and unconditional love, is an essentially commercial transaction in which whoever is forgiven most will love most. Jesus then observes that none of the services performed for Him by the sinful woman were performed by the law-abiding Pharisee, because the magnitude of a person's love for Jesus depends on the magnitude of the debt which He is empowered to forgive them.

The woman's behaviour is identical to that of Mary of Bethany in the other three gospels; although Jesus gives that incident a different meaning to this one, deeming Mary's action a preparation for His burial. Immediately after the incident in Luke's gospel, several women are mentioned who ministered to Jesus and his followers, including the wife of a royal servant (Luke 8 i-iii). Given His evident appeal to bored and wealthy females, it seems eminently possible that outbursts of lachrymose adoration were a repeated and perhaps a frequent occurrence during the Saviour's ministry. If not for the expense involved in purchasing the necessary ointment, such displays might even have been a daily fixture.

In this case, the moral Jesus draws is the same as for the parables of the lost sheep, the labourers in the vineyard and the prodigal son; namely that righteousness and keeping the law are of scant significance in the eyes of Jesus and His Father. Mere abstention from sin is next to no use at all: in propitiating arbitrary tyrants only repentence and grovelling will suffice. Hence there is good reason to believe the Saviour's assertion that those who have less to grovel about will be regarded less favourably in the eyes of heaven. It follows, comfortingly enough, that serious and persistent violations of God's law are not only forgivable but welcome, provided they are paid for with a sufficiently melodramatic self-abasement.

Saturday, April 14, 2018

A Dirty Old Woman in a Hurry

Nobody could accuse the dead-eyed warden of HM Prison UK of failing to learn the lessons of recent conflicts. The Reverend Blair spent an inordinate amount of time and effort fabricating evidence for the weapons of mass ethereality in Iraq; we all know how that turned out, so Tin-Pot Tessie and her very special chum the Trumpster have dispensed with any pretence of interest in mere facts. After the glorious crusade in Libya, the late Head Boy made a half-hearted bash at involving Parliament in his own efforts at creating more Syrian refugees for the Bullingdon Club to snigger about, but was voted down largely thanks to his own weapons-grade laziness and self-complacency. Given that there are very few Conservatives who would vote against a wog-bombing by one of their own governments in any circumstance, and that a sizeable chunk of the parliamentary Labour Party would happily tolerate Iraq-level casualties and poke Russia with a sharp stick just to put one over on the cross-party Nemesis that is Jeremy Corbyn, Tin-Pot Tessie almost certainly could have managed a Commons majority for the present adventure; which would at least have preserved the rubric of parliamentary sovereignty for her notoriously undemanding target audience. She was just too cowardly to try.

Friday, April 13, 2018

More Black Ingratitude

For those who doubt the glory of outright wog-bombing, there are humbler and subtler aspects to the moral miracle that is Britishness: railways, entrepreneurial gumption, Kipling and so forth. The present government of the Democratic Republic of Congo has clearly internalised the Recrudescent Imperium's more obtrusive virtues, notably a healthy scepticism about the authority of mere experts and a relentlessly pragmatic faith in the idea that a problem can always be solved provided one denies its existence loudly enough. In accordance with these staunch and stalwart principles, Kinshasa has refused to take part in a conference aimed at raising money for humanitarian assistance, on the grounds that the crisis in the DRC is being exaggerated by subversive humanitarians. The UN has designated parts of the country as suffering the highest level of emergency; and since the UN is not talking about Britain, the British government believes it. The conference is looking to raise £1.2 billion, and Her Majesty's Government is contributing £227 million, although it remains as yet unclear how much of this amount will go towards mere food, shelter and medicine, and how much will be spent on making genuine and sustainable progress in those truly humanitarian causes which either go bang or make a profit, or ideally both.

Thursday, April 12, 2018

May's Apocalypse

Chemical warfare, as the case of Saddam Hussein proved in the 1980s, is an unequivocal evil except when waged against the enemies of freedom. Nevertheless, it appears that the rush to punish President Assad for sharing Winston Churchill's opinion about the best means of controlling uncivilised tribes may be subject to a slight rah-rah interruptus; though it remains as yet unclear whether the delay is purely for form's sake or because there are still people in the White House who consider all-out war with Russia something less than a good risk. A couple of hundred Russian mercenaries (they were not, you will observe, anything so exalted as military contractors) were apparently killed fighting against some official Good Guys a couple of months ago, but a "deconfliction line" is being utilised for the purposes of disescalatory nonhottuppification. All this must be nerve-wracking for Tumbledown Tessie, who finally managed to hold a "war cabinet" meeting about actual wog-bombing rather than the usual internecine backbiting, or barking orders at the Euro-wogs and waiting for le shrug inéluctable, only to find the Trumpster's head-tribble mired in apparent self-doubt. Have our allies no sense of urgency? Do they not realise the scale of the looming humanitarian crisis for Conservative local councils all over Britain?

Wednesday, April 11, 2018

Terminal Britishness

Once again, traditional British values are gratifyingly to the fore at the Ministry of Wog Control, whose minions showed almost every conceivable consideration to a melanin-advantaged deportee before she cast an embarrassing damper by dropping dead of a pulmonary embolism. As part of a swarming horde of two South African taxpayers, the migrant in question had been crowding Britons out of a job for more than ten years, and when she and her husband were indiscreet enough to try and renew their visas they were duly ordered out of the country and bundled onto a flight. Although the attending wog control personnel were not in the least fooled by the female cockroach's collapse at the airport, it was decided to postpone the deportation and kick the culprits into jail instead, presumably in order to spare the delicate sensibilities of any hired boot-boys on the plane who might be haunted by the name of Mubenga. A nurse pronounced the malingerer too ill to cope with the luxuries of detention; but the centre management knew better than to listen to mere experts, and the Ministry for Wog Control topped off the edifying saga by sending the deceased a text eighteen days after her death, warning of the dire consequences should she fail to present herself before the Britishness Police. A spokesbeing for the Ministry of Wog Control has offered its thoughts and condolences, which is certainly frightfully decent of it.

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Doing Their Business on Britain's Doorstep

Pessimists, traitors and citizens of nowhere at that notoriously anti-business lobbying group, the Institute of Directors, have dared to imply that cutting ourselves off from our most profitable markets and giving the old Churchill V-sign to the biggest free trade area in the world might conceivably result in potential economic outcomes which may arguably, from certain unpatriotic and ill-tempered points of view, appear somewhat less than wholly positive. More than forty per cent of company bosses turn out to be lily-livered internationalists who wish nothing better than to continue living on Euro-wog subsidies rather than striking out and conquering new vistas of independent trade in the fields of Marmite, militaria and motivational flatulence. Three-quarters of companies are optimistic about their international business prospects; although it remains unclear whether any correlation exists between such optimism and the ability of particular companies to do their bit for Britain by flogging off their assets, dumping their workers onto the mercy of the Department for Workfare and Privation, and seeking asylum for their capital at a proper bank in Frankfurt. For anyone with an aversion to being tarred, feathered and braised in chlorine by angry shareholders, the decision whether to cut and run, or instead to trust in the negotiating power and brilliance of the former Minister for Werritty, must certainly be quite the little dilemma.