Are you mad?

If you’re reading this, you probably are.

Drones aren’t likely to read blogs unless they are about flower arranging or some celeb with her tits out or Jamie Oliver with his tongue up his arse or the terrors of smoke and steam and wine and salt and sugar and whatever today’s Terrible Thing is. They don’t come here.

Those who do read this blog and the many others like it are the ones who think for themselves. Governments don’t like that. They never have and never will. Just as in Nazi Germany and in China and in Stalin’s Russia and in so many other countries, anyone who thinks the system is flawed must be insane. It’s perfect; the problem is in your mind and you can be drugged into compliance. Otherwise you must be locked away for the good of the majority.

It’s starting again. In America, the State Psychologists have declared political dissidents insane

Indeed, the whole “indefinite detention” process (which Americans living on American soil are subject to) can be based on circular reasoning:

The government’s indefinite detention policy – stripped of it’s spin – is literally insane, and based on circular reasoning. Stripped of p.r., this is the actual policy:

  • If you are an enemy combatant or a threat to national security, we will detain you indefinitely until the war is over
  • But trust us, we know you are an enemy combatant and a threat to national security

See how that works?

Ah but that’s America. In the UK…

The [British] Government has established a shadowy new national anti-terrorist unit to protect VIPs, with the power to detain suspects indefinitely using mental health laws.

It’s pretty much the same. You can now be sectioned indefinitely for disagreeing with the government. This is the same government that bangs on about human rights for foreign rapists and murderers. You, being a British citizen, only have human rights if you fit the British Standard Human model of drone compliance and obedience. If you don’t, you must be insane. If you’re from Somalia and you want to ignore every law in the land, well, that’s your culture, innit? Nobody will so much as question you.

Note that the anti-terrorist unit is set up to protect VIPs. Not you and me. We are the ones they want protection from. We are the voices in their heads. We are the ones who have to be medicated into silence.

The politicians aren’t scared of terrorists because terrorists never target politicians. The terrorists blow up innocent bystanders just going about their daily lives. Politicians are scared of one thing only – not being voted for. Losing the seat on the gravy train. Losing the power they now hold over every life in their jurisdiction. That’s why we have to be compliant. That’s why they are terrified of words, far more than they would ever be scared of bullets and bombs. They don’t care if we kill each other in the streets. They don’t want us to talk.

It has already been pushed into the drone minds that smokers and drinkers are self-medicating their own insanities. The vapers will get this too, if they haven’t already. The logical solution – the final solution so beloved of vindictive totalitarian regimes – is to lock them away where they cannot drink or smoke and then use them to boost Pharmer profits by drugging them into another dimension of reality altogether. It’s much more profitable than just killing us, and the price of gas these days would make even Hitler look for an alternative.

There has never been a shortage of pompous, self-important psychologists willing to help with this pogrom of the free-thinkers. Stalin and Hitler had them by the bucketload and they still exist now. They don’t like us either.  We don’t fit the textbook definitions and we spoil their stats.

So we’re insane. Every one of us. We don’t follow every lunatic pronouncement, we don’t tug the forelock when the knob-tuggers pass us by, we don’t show proper obeisance and respect to the politicians who only got where they are by being better liars than the other politicians.

There is insanity out there and we voted for it. We let them take charge and now they are taking revenge on those who disagree with their madness. They have plenty of arrogant control freaks who have been just waiting for them, just waiting for their chance to be the new Inquisition and apply their own psychoses to the general population as they have done so many times before.

Don’t relax, smile and say ‘it can’t happen in my country’. It is happening. Now.

The lunatics have taken over the asylum and they are coming for you. As Fun Boy Three predicted in 1981…



On a slightly related note, CynaraeStMary has been concerned over an old friend she never actually met. She last read his blog 6 to 8 years ago. He had been living in a bedsit and having continuous battles with the council and was eventually sectioned. We’ve been trying to find out what happened but with only sketchy memories, we aren’t getting far. If it triggers any memories, any hints or part names or blogpost titles, perhaps we can track him down.

Meanwhile I have a lot to do before Wednesday because of a reason. The blog might remain a little bit random for a while.

The day a hedgehog stared me down

Just over a year ago I met CynaraeStMary on Twitter. She had commented on the blog before then but I was still in a whisky abyss at the time, self medicating for a slow demise. That has changed, I’m getting better.

Igor the hedgehog unfortunately isn’t. He passed away last night due to a really vicious gut infection that ripped his insides apart in about a day. The only saving grace was that at the end, he was in vet care and probably so drugged up he didn’t feel a thing.

That wouldn’t be unusual for someone who came to be seen as the original punk rockstar hamster.

I remember CynaraeStMary first telling me about her pet hedgehog and being surprised that I considered this unusual. I didn’t mention that I considered it a bit more than unusual and bordering on Crazy Small Mammal Lady. I still haven’t. It turns out that having a pet hedgehog is actually less unusual than having Boris the undercouch spider as a pet. Who knew?

My first meeting with Igor was when CynaraeStMary had him cuddled on her chest. I was a little way away, trying to get a good photo (of the hedgehog, you filthy minded swines) without using flash. Didn’t get a good one.

At one point he turned his face towards me and gave me a look that said ‘What in the name of Satan’s fart gas is that thing?’

I stared back. I blinked first. He won that one. It’ll be the last, so he won them all.

He had a hotline to Putin, we thought, and was bent on world domination from his underground lair. He seemed the type to be doing that.

He had rock parties in his cage at night, evidenced by the way he had always trashed it in the morning and was flat out in a spaced-out sleep.

If you had to get up in the night, he’d look at you as if to say ‘What are you doing? It’s my time. I don’t go wandering around the place when you’re awake. Fuck off back to sleep’.

A wonderful grump, a hell of a character and the source of many smiles as well as a few ‘I’ll strangle you, you little bastard’ moments.

I’ll miss him even though he didn’t like me. He didn’t like anyone. Well, one. He liked CynaraeStMary, but nobody else on the planet.

RIP Igor. The Romulus Crowe of hedgehogs.

Hedgehog emergency

We have a sick hedgehog and neither of us have much money. So I’ll be selling to raise cash, mostly on eBay. I have to raise cash for rent anyway, this is extra.

One of the things going up is my 1/24 scale Nightwing truck, a DAF cab unit turned into a right hand drive box van. It looks like this:


I’ll have better photos for eBay, obviously.

Also, Zombie Santa among other things. This was the first nail polish Santa and looks like this…


Yes the garland became a colon and the teddy lost an eye :) It all looked so cheerful before I got to it.

In the next few days I’ll be looking to cover rent and vet bills on eBay. It’s going to be a busy time…


Dreaming of unification

It’s been a long time since I corrupted a song here. I should have been asleep long ago but this one just demanded my attention. What the hell, I don’t have to be up early, work is afternoon shift tomorrow.

There was only one line I didn’t change because it fit so well and I really couldn’t better it. You can find the original here.

So, with apologies in advance to the Red Hot Chili Peppers, here is my version of ‘Californication’, now retitled ‘Dreaming of unification’.

As always, it’s open to better lines or links.


Science is redundant in the climate conflagration
And Tom Jones songs in rugby now cause domestic violations
And if you dream any kind of dream it’s mental aberration

It’s the end of the EU and soon the end of civilisation
The sun might burn in the east at least it’ll fire up the next big nation
While in the west democracy becomes unification

Pay the Righteous very well to do all of your thinking
They’ll take your smokes and leave you broke and save you from your drinking

Believe in unicorns
All sex is porn

Dreaming of unification
Dream of Borg assimilation…

Marry a girl or a badger or a bird it’s the same in this society
We no longer make distinctions because we’re high on total equality
And start up a farm with a corporate arm, organic food fakery

Death may be the final frontier but you can find it in a hospital basement
And Corbyn can you see the end of our EU debasement?
And Assange won’t you go away, you’re just an embarrassment

Righteous dark pronouncements to control the population
Government accepts them, rubber stamps their smug elation

Look! A unicorn!
Distracts them all

Dreaming of unification
Dream of Righteous smug elation
Dreaming of standardisation
Dream of Borg assimilation

Destruction leads to a very rough road but it also breeds creation
It’s what the Righteous just can’t grasp, they think it’s a final solution
But everything they break just makes a newer innovation

Pay the Righteous very well to tell you what you’re thinking
Twisted in the mind, they want to find a way to stop you thinking

Ignore the unicorns
Wake up, see the dawn

Dream of Borg assimilation
Dream of Righteous smug elation
Dreaming of unification

Dream a life without coercion…

Kim Jong Cameroid

It’s what one of the commenters named him. They were right.

The Cameroid has a New Deal with the EU which changes… nothing at all. He must have hoped nobody would notice. Clearly he has not the slightest understanding of how real people think, nor even of how his party works. He is not a dictator, much as he would like to be.

Now he has declared that his MPs should ignore not only voters, but even their own local party members. Not just the ones who voted them into place. Also the ones who put them up for election in the first place. Ignore them all and be a good little EU drone. Do what Kim Jong Cameroid dictates.

The EU is fucked. It’s falling apart. It’s going to be a noisy crash and there will be collateral damage but it’s going down and going down fast. There’ll be no Blair-like hopes of a presidency for the Cameroid. His ambitions are in vain.

This man has no vision, no ability to calculate the future and no grasp of reality at all. Real life is going to steamroller him into oblivion. The sooner the better. He can take the grinning ghoul Blair with him.

This declaration of forced support for the EU is desperation. It’s going to fail. The EU will fall apart within my lifetime and I’ll be scoffing popcorn as it goes down.

Their last ditch attempt at unification will be a war. Not within Europe, but with Europe against the Middle East. It’s been carefully set up over many years. Islam doesn’t realise it but they are not a religion any more, they are a useful tool  for those who want control.

We are at war with Eurasia. We have always been at war with Eurasia…

Interesting times

My little car has been through its MOT and now has brakes and a boot lid that opens. Cost was painful but not crippling. I didn’t know a non-functioning boot was an MOT fail but apparently it is. Still it was only £30 for a new lock. If I’d known that I’d have fixed it myself.

I did fix it once before. It’s not hard to do. I did it with a scrapyard part and it wasn’t long before it broke again. If only I had known the new part was that cheap.

It’s a Ford, and every time you look up how to fix something on the internet you can find the answer. Usually under ‘this is a common problem’. Fords do seem to have a lot of ‘common problems’. I never had this with the Skoda.

It wasn’t a real Skoda. It was a Skoda Felicia after Volkswagen took over. As my boss at the time said, it was really a Volkswagen Polo with the street cred taken out.

Anyway, I am legally mobile again.


Work has a new cleaner. Boss told me he has the same name as me and I insisted on being the one to tell the bakers and the cafe staff. The looks on their faces when I told them there was another me starting… priceless!

He’s a pleasant guy. Nice to everyone. Still, his training has begun. I don’t even need to make up a name for him. Two of us with the same name is going to cause more confusion than anything I could dream up.


The other day, I told Obelix that he looks like Mongo from Blazing Saddles. Judging by the resulting reaction, he was the only one in the staff room who hasn’t seen that film. If he ever does, I might need medical attention.

He has threatened to kill me a few times. Four of them tonight. I told him Nads would be furious if he did because she wants to.


There was a lizard funeral at work. Yeah, I know, you would expect no less. In the bottom of a box of bananas was a desiccated baby gecko. Poor little chap must have hatched in transit and found nothing to eat because lizards don’t eat bananas. Obelix, to his credit, arranged the funeral. It was most touching and there were few dry eyes at the final flush. Took a few goes. It seems dead geckos can swim.

Should I have mentioned that geckos lay eggs in pairs? I thought I’d save that information for later.

Someone pointed out that it could have been worse, there could have been a massive spider in the bananas. The guy who deals with fruit apparently hadn’t thought of that… He has now.


I’ll gloss over the exploding arse incident in the customer toilets. Suffice to say that the manager in charge said ‘lock it and leave it’ and called the hazmat suit sanitisers – or as Obelix calls them, the poop scoop crew. He’s learning :)

Okay, I’m probably the most qualified person within 20 miles to deal with it but work liability insurance says no. If the manager told me to do it and I caught something, I’m not covered by work insurance but could put in a compensation claim I could retire on. Tonight’s manager was smart.


Right, I feel a rant coming on. It’ll go on a timer for tomorrow…

Nail Art Modelling -The Trailer

I have double shifts all weekend, car in for MOT Monday and work Monday evening, so will be a bit quiet for a few days.

This is a preview of a post in the making. I own far more nail polish and nail art equipment than the average over-50 straight guy. Probably more than the average 25 year old gay guy and maybe more than most teen girls. What I do with it does not involve nails.


The Sparkle Truck


The box Sparkle Truck came out of. It was the fire engine. The ambulance is currently in surgery ;)

That’s a 1/76 scale RAF fire truck from about 1940. Well, no, it isn’t a fire truck any more. I didn’t exactly follow the instructions. I just need the right number plates and it’s done.


Projects in progress


N gauge items under construction. The ruler is in millimetres.

More on this later. There is a whole new world of model making out there, and it could result in some new ideas for the nail artists too.

First I have to get through a weekend of hellish work levels. Shouldn’t be too difficult.


Updated to include the model box on 31 Jan 2016