Clarkson s thoughts on Lady Meddlesome .......Hilarious !
Discussion
Looking forward to reading Jeremy Clarkson's column in the Sunday Times?
You won't get a chance to now because they pulled it after the lefties
sniffled. Moderately insulting to a broad range of countries it is true
but what was anyone expecting in an article by Clarkson?
Anyway to prove a point a web site called "The Bear" reproduced the
article in full, here it is, pass it on:
"Get me a rope before Mandelson wipes us all out"
Jeremy Clarkson
for the Sunday Times
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
in the meantime.
You won't get a chance to now because they pulled it after the lefties
sniffled. Moderately insulting to a broad range of countries it is true
but what was anyone expecting in an article by Clarkson?
Anyway to prove a point a web site called "The Bear" reproduced the
article in full, here it is, pass it on:
"Get me a rope before Mandelson wipes us all out"
Jeremy Clarkson
for the Sunday Times
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
in the meantime.
GPT said:
Pretty sure I read that in the Sunday Times ages ago.
You didhttp://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnist...
Justayellowbadge said:
While Clarkson is a mildly entertaining scribbler and has raised being an oik to an art form, anyone that thinks he would be remotely capable even at parish council level is in need of medication.
You mean like the monkeys we have in charge of us now or the ones which are running to be in charge of us.It couldn't hurt could it? We're f
ked anyway, regardless.Gassing Station | The Lounge | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff