T'was The Night Before Christmas - By @Hossylass

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the House

MP’s were feasting on subsidised grouse

Their expenses were listed and nobody cared

That the cries of disabled were going unheard



The Members soon nestled in tax funded beds

While visions of riches danced in their heads

And a subservient underclass doffing its cap

Settled their brains for a long winter nap



When out in the streets there came such a clatter

They crawled from their beds to see what was the matter

Drapes cast asunder, it was clear in a flash

That the strivers were clearing the Ministerial trash



The cleaners had trudged in through 8 inches of snow

To buff and to polish the offices below

No living wage at the end of the day

Just tax payer subsidised minimum pay



And out in the doorways of numerous places

The homeless and helpless shielded their faces

Their hopes and their dreams had drifted away

Replaced by despair at another new day.



But this year at Christmas a miracle appears

An army of deviant kind volunteers

Disability Ninjas armed with the facts

Savaging proposals with a symbolic axe



And along the blade the words burn bright

“You will not destroy us, we will turn and fight”

To speak for those who’s voices are small

Voices ignored, if heard at all



Churches and Unions stood up to fight

To demand what is reasonable, and what is right



Twas the night before Christmas and all through the land

Tears are shed at what is planned

By the people who with enormous wealth

Are happy to endanger the very health

Of the people who quietly every day

Keep the country ticking away



NHS nurses and other health workers

In danger of becoming next weeks “shirkers”

But the Charities, activists and Unions united

Now they will help the lives of the blighted

The poor, the rejected, the lost in despair

We will reach out and comfort and show that we care



Twas the night before Christmas and all through the lands

The sword of truth awakens in our own hands

And when it seems to heavy to swing

Remember the miracles that Christmas can bring.

Keep The Aspidistra Flying - By Hossylass

It looks like we will, after all, have to keep the aspidistra flying and continue to hope that society will charitably provide the finances that society resists paying for under compulsion.

What that basically means is that the poor will continue to give a disproportionately larger amount of both their incomes and their disposable incomes than the rich to charitable causes.

And as charitable causes go there are many. Most of them are honourable, many are heart-breaking, and a significant few are downright dishonest.

But assuming that the givers are aware of the final destination of their hard earned cash, and then the choice to give is theirs. Paying tax is not their choice, it’s part of a social contract. The givers (or the bludgeoned, depending on how you feel) in the main accept that taxes, like death, are unavoidable.

But some don’t. Yeah, you know who you are. The huge corporations worth billions, with vast turnovers that pay a paltry 6% tax.

The people at the top, who earn so much that it is but a game to them, to be richer than their mates, and  to avoid as much tax as possible.

The footballers who manage to pay only 4% tax, on salaries that are almost beyond the ken of the normal working man. The normal working man that incidentally pays their wages, turning up every Saturday, standing in the rain and eating a pie, that if it hasn’t been made in Wigan or St. Helens, is probably gristle wrapped in trans fatty acids and sawdust.

Yes Wigan, football and tax have a lot to answer for, which may be why the Orwell judges chose to pick Rangers Tax something or other to win the Orwell Prize for blogging. Now the blog may be brilliant, it may be the most socio-politically accurate portrayal of Britain today.

I’ll never know though, because on the seven times I tried to read it, I fell asleep. This may be due to my condition, it may be a very good reason to not have me as a judge, it may be that I think Rangers are a bit poo and if they can’t sort out their finances and their midfield then that’s their problem. 

It may be that I have had much more fun on the piss with Celtic fans. 

Yep, it may be that I am disengaged by the title of the blog.

I was however engaged by the three northern lasses who put up blogs that really did feel Orwellian.

Wiggy’s blog gives the law as people want to read it, full of reason, explanation and common sense, and not too many long words. Did I feel patronised? Did I shites. I felt engaged, intrigued and wanted to read through the night.

I struggled to understand Lisa’s blog at first, until I eventually found the bits I should have been reading. Then I was hooked. I was hooked by the fact that Lisa just blogs how it is. She never feels the need to write in a stuffy, pretentious fashion.  I laughed with her as she laughed at herself, and railed with her when she railed at the world. Thanks to Orwell I had an enjoyable few hours in some-one else’s world. Thanks to Lisa for sharing.

As a disabled person Kaliya’s blog is pretty much essential reading, more so if you have a condition that is rare, odd or generally unbelieved. This increases tenfold if you have the same condition as Kaliya, and goes a bit quantum if you bought a car off her. Guess which boxes I tick.

But regarding Orwell, Kaliya also ticks all the boxes. She takes her own particular circumstances and relates them, comparing her small picture to the very big picture.  And Kaliya has the capability of seeing some very big pictures. That’s because her eyes are positioned very far apart.  Or because she sees things as they really are.

And that is what all three of these bloggers have. Really wide apart eyes. They really see things as they are, a bit like that book “The Lies We tell Children”. Adults are told lies too, misinformed, pushed into beliefs that have no foundation.

The economy is not the fault of the little people, nor the disabled, nor immigrants nor the unemployed. It’s not single parents, or drunks or drug addicts. It’s the fault of the world banking system, the financiers and the greed that infests their lives.

The cuts will hurt millions and save millions. Sadly its billions that are needed, the billions that are tucked away in off-shore banks, the billions unpaid in tax. The country would not have to cut a single penny if the billions that are stashed away in tax avoidance were paid.

And because those billions are stashed away, Kaliya will still have to try and raise the funds for her much needed power-chair from the little people. Ironically the Orwell Prize money would have meant she could have bought it. This week. In the colour that she wants.

We shall instead have to keep the aspidistra flying in the way of fundraising, and thank the Orwell Prize and the three doughty northern lasses for allowing us not just to peer myopically into their worlds, but understand that we are all essentially part of that big picture.

(Note: None of the bloggers have, to my knowledge, anything other than perfectly placed eyes. Apologies to those who may feel offended, especially those who are offended on behalf of others – for you I am really sorry.)

In Defence Of Iain Duncan Smith - By Hossylass

As if.

To be honest, I think that IDS is indefensible.

I have this to say to him, and all those other MP’s who “met a man”;

to all those neighbours who are expert medical consultants, but prefer to be bin collectors, lorry drivers and administrators;

to those Atos Doctors who don’t even try to be fair;

to social service workers with preconceived ideas;

and to those who should know better but can ignore their own knowledge in favour of easier to enjoy bigotry;

this is for you.

So, so you think you can tell,

Heaven from Hell, 
blue skies from pain. 
Can you tell a green field,

from a cold steel rail? 
A smile from a veil? 
Do you think you can tell? 

And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? 
Hot ashes for trees? 
Hot air for a cool breeze? 
Cold comfort for change? 
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war,

For a lead role in a cage? 

How I wish, how I wish you were here. 
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, 
Running over the same old ground. 
What have you found? The same old fears. 
Wish you were here. 


Living in a country that promotes people to consider themselves capable of judging blue skies from pain and a smile from a veil, and to condemn those who are judged to be “undeserving”.

Spinning lies on the spinning wheel of hatred, convincing the public that 75% of people are faking, and then patting yourselves on the back for "saving" billions.

Removing benefits from sick and disabled people and spinning it that they are “trapped on benefits, which is not fair on them”  is like raping a 10 year old girl and then telling her that at least she won’t still be a virgin at 50.

Indefensible doesn't even come close.

Lyrics by Pink Floyd.

The Insanity Of Power - Guest Post By Hossylass

Some seek power, some have power thrust upon them, and some become Prime Ministers.

Personally I cannot get excited about a Prime Minister. After all it is just the “Prime” Minister, an MP that has been selected by wit, wisdom or, more usually, the absence of either.

So what is a “Prime”?

As an adjective it is described as;

1. First in excellence, quality, or value..

2. First in degree or rank; chief.

3. First or early in time, order, or sequence; original.

4. Of the highest U.S. government grade of meat.

5. Mathematics Of, relating to, or being a prime number.

Now I can deal with number 5. Prime numbers are the equivalent of porn to mathematicians

Number 4 is an odd way of grading meat. In the UK we use a much more sensible system of EUROP, which is the way many farmers spell Europe. The exception is in Essex, where its “phwoar”.

Number 3 is far too dull to discuss.

So that leaves us 1 or 2. What a miserable choice. Actually number 2 just doesn’t cover it. A first in History of Art is still as much use as tits on a jelly fish (yes I know that’s not what it means, but the prized prime shit degree still has to be media studies). The word “rank” is appealing, and sadly has fallen in disuse of recent years, and the word “Chief” walks the same line as the word “Pal”, as in you don’t want to use it in the wrong company.

And that leaves number 1. Which is just wrong.

So what about “Prime Minister”?

A few suggestions spring to mind;

1.     1.  Person who dedicates themselves to make the UK a better place for everyone, then decides it would be more beneficial to make it better for them, resulting in a form of power crazed insanity.

2.     2.  Person who wants to be Prime Minister, achieves this, and goes mad.

3.     3.  A madman who sets out to fulfil some elements of (1) and (2) but is actually clinically insane from the start.

So how do these seemingly harsh suggestions fit in with our most recent PM’s?

1)      Harold Wilson; Resigned with the early signs of Alzheimer’s, so I am quite happy that this had nothing to do with sociopathic tendencies, though had a list of successors that had some very dubious thought processes.

2)      Edward Heath; Not particularly good but not notably mental until the very end when he asked “Who Governs Britain”. At that point everyone knew except him.

3)      James Callaghan; Inherited a position that no sane person would have accepted. It didn’t take him long to fail to improve anything at all, entered a period of denial, became a bit delusional and eventually got ousted.

4)      Margaret Thatcher; A chemist who became a Barrister, Mother, MP, social climber par excellence, and a power crazed freak of nature. Unpopular with dairy farmers, she then managed to become unpopular with huge swathes of various industries, and then went completely barking mad. That was the first 6 months – you know the rest. Has now got dementia which has tamed her sociopathic tendencies a bit, but definitely not eligible for a gun licence.

5)      John Major; Managed seven years and nobody noticed. Power was forced upon him, but with a shy smile he neatly sidestepped it. Well he would have smiled but he was at home after having had a wisdom tooth removed. Not so much mad as vacant possession, his absence of reality allowed lots of other power mad people to do exactly what they wanted whilst John smiled, vacantly, a lot.

6)      Tony Blair; juvenile who was mad, he had a guitar and believed he was a musician. Innocent enough attitude but became Prime Minister and tried to get other people to believe he was a Socialist. Then decided that he should become the richest person on earth so changed lots of things to ensure this came true. Definitely a case of number (1), and phenomenally barking at the end – though having Gordon saying “Is it my turn yet?” for years would send anyone mad. Now works in a freak show for mad people, gibbering about his sex life whilst lots of very rich people laugh at him.

7)      Gordon Brown; Really, really, really wanted to be Prime minister. Mad, though not sociopathic, Gordon discovered that Tony hadn’t been checking his sums, and was a bit cross as this made him look incompetent. (As opposed to a fool).

8)      David Cameron; Definitely a number 3 – a person who sets out to be Prime Minister for the sheer hell of it, and to have fun and make money for himself and his friends. A very new breed of sociopath, David was the only PM of recent years that was certifiable before he even got the job. Sadly there is no humour or irony in this statement.

So if anyone still wants the job, I think there may be an opening in the future, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.

How Gullible Are The Population? Guest blog by Hossylass

How gullible are the population?

Its official - 75% are.

We all know these people, they read it in the paper so it has to be true, we saw it on the news and the BBC don't lie, etc.
But I didn't think for a minute that over 3/4 of the population are so gullible.

We have ourselves been victims of propaganda, and know that it is true, these people do exist. 
Oddly they seem to be relieved when the news or the government or the papers dictate how to live their lives, what decisions to make, how to form their opinions. They need not just opportunities but they also crave direction, and lap it up with abandonment - the abandonment being their inability to recognise the cognitive dissonance that is going on inside their minds.

For those who don't know, cognitive dissonance is where you try and have two conflicting ideas at the same time, like nearly every disabled person could work, except for my auntie, and my sister, and the bloke down the road, and people who have MS, or Parkinson's, or cancer, or those horrid diseases.

The same people who are so easily swayed and have their opinions formed by newspapers or the tv, or government, are also the same ones who scream about the nanny state, without realising that they are so immature about forming their own educated opinion they are actually relying on Nanny to form their ideas for them.

No greater demonstration of this can be seen that the recent petrol fiasco.
There is no petrol fiasco, there is no shortage in the availability of petrol at this precise moment.
And there may never be a fuel crisis if the oil companies release their grip on the world's economy and allow other technologies.

The tanker drivers feel a need to strike - not over pay, but over health and safety issues.
These health and safety issues are quite probably the same issues that Camoron wants to dismiss as red tape.
But there are health and safety issues - petrol is a dangerous substance, as one lady in York found out, after listening to Nanny, she decided to stockpile petrol and consequently managed to set fire to herself.

So where is the 75% that are gullible? 
Well yesterday they were mainly sat in queues outside petrol stations.
Ok, so maybe gullible is the wrong word.

Maybe I meant brainwashed, mindless, stupid individuals with no more foresight than a stone.

This was an exercise by the Government to test the reaction of the populace - and it worked on a large number of them.
The Government must be hugging themselves.

This week spending is up, "hurrah!" shout the government - "there is no slow down in the economy, our plans are working, we are not heading back into another recession so yahboo sucks to you OECD".

This week they have shifted the anger about the budget to anger about the tanker drivers, and bemusement about pasties.

No more peeking at those rich people who have re-written the policies of Government by bunging Call-me-Dave a quarter of a million.

No, now the country is sat outside petrol stations like good little sheep, praying that the "talks" between the Government and the tanker drivers union means that the strike wont go ahead, but if it does, like boy scouts, they will be prepared, because our caring Government warned them, told them to fill up their cans, fill up their tanks and fuck over their neighbours by CAUSING a petrol crisis.

I don't think there will be a strike, I don't think there ever was going to be a strike. Strikes are the threat needed to get people to listen. 
Well mission accomplished, the threat of chaos that would be caused by a strike actually became a reality without the strike taking place.

Some would say that the Government cocked up.
I doubt it. I think they created a lovely little crisis so they had a good day to bury bad news.