The Blair Ditch Project

Thanks to Boris, this bugger retires today.

"The Scotland Yard head told London mayor Boris Johnson he had never been distracted by any of the controversies surrounding him.

Sir Ian said he will be "fully exonerated" by an investigation into how contracts worth several million pounds were handed to a close friend."

Needless to say, this has cost us several hundred thousand pounds, what with his pension-pot top-ups and paying off his full contract. Why is it that a chief plod is offered such a bullet-proof contract? Don't tell me that you couldn't attract the right calibre without such a contract - it's the top job, for Christ's sake! This woeful excuse for a straight copper has behaved shamefully in his post, has been proved dishonest at worst or incompetent at best, yet walks away with all the wonga. Furthermore, he has presided over a Met where a chancer like Tarique Ghaffur can negotiate a million-pound settlement for a cooked-up racism case, instead of being reduced to the ranks and sent to Neasden to do some community policing, which is what should have happened to the lying swine.

And his parting shot - authorising a squad of 9 (nine!) anti-terrorism officers to the home of a front-bench MP, respected on both sides of the house, to do a lot of what's-all-this-ing in every drawer, cupboard, nook and cranny, when the MP in question has done no more than behave as all opposition members are expected to behave, and as all journalists do, be they good, bad, or Robert Peston.

And it is apparent that the Speaker, that illiterate numptie Gorbals Mick, approved the charade. He should be encouraged to visit his study in his plush quarters, with a deep fried mars bar and a revolver, and contemplate his position.

Irate Idle

Husband of the Year Awards

In 5th place, someone who for some reason reminded me of the Tuscan on his grant-maintained European farm. But those must be a couple of his maiden aunts in the cage; certainly not the fragrant Tuscana, pbuh. But he could've made them walk, so no podium place for him.


In 4th: this put me in mind of the idle bro at Glasto. But bicycles DO get nicked, he's given her a mat to kip on, and he's sharing his water. So no medal for him either.


Bronze: this is more like it.


Silver: terrific! But he blew it by holding her hand, the soppy fool.


GOLD: Unbeatable. The insouciance of the hand in pocket and drag on the fag are nice touches. Those Albanians are gallant gentlemen.

Idle's Do-it-Yourself Adage Kit

Using the following three photographs, competitors are invited to come up with an adage, phrase, or aphorism pertinent to the current economic climate. First Prize: a VAT holiday for two in 2015.

Loathsome Disingenuous Trollop

This isn't really a caption competition, but by all means caption it if you like. The reason for the photo was that her dress struck me as being utterly absurd. She looks like a flowerpot man. A neck like a rugby player's thigh with a tiny head stuck on as an afterthought.

This woman would be lucky to be the chairperson of a lesbian outreach group, were it not for her Ugandan activities with Ed Balls, and her consequent inner-circle status with McBust. I hate the very sight of her, safe in the knowledge that she holds me and folk like me in contempt. She is incapable of a statement that is not phrased in biased terms, and I require better from a minister of the Crown. Her reaction to the (mirabile dictu!) Cameron decision to give up on his hopeless duplication of Labour spending plans was a classic of its type: “Unlike the Conservatives, we refuse to abandon people in tough times. The British economy needs a shot in the arm, not a slap in the face.”

An Old Tale, Refurbished For Our Times

The Prime Minister was visiting a primary school. One class was in the middle of a discussion related to words and their meanings. The teacher asked the PM if he would like to lead the discussion on the word 'tragedy'. So the illustrious leader asked the class for an example of a 'tragedy'. A little boy stood up and offered: 'If my best friend, who lives on a farm, is playing in the field and a tractor runs over him and kills him,that would be a tragedy'. 'No, said Brown - that would be an accident.' A little girl raised her hand: 'If a school bus carrying fifty children drove over a cliff, killing everyone inside, that would be a tragedy.' 'I'm afraid not', explained Brown - 'that's what we would call a great loss'. The room went silent. No other children volunteered. The PM searched the room. 'Isn't there someone here who can give me an example of a tragedy?' Finally, at the back of the room, little Johnny raised his hand...In a quiet voice he said: 'If a plane carrying you and Mr. Darling was struck by a 'friendly fire' missile & blown to smithereens, that would be a tragedy. ''Fantastic!' exclaimed Brown. 'That's right. And can you tell me why that would be tragedy?'' 'Well,' says Johnny 'it has to be a tragedy, because it certainly wouldn't be a great loss and it probably wouldn't be a fucking accident either'

Berliner Zeitung gets it right

A Pure and Admirable Sentiment