A is for And This is Why Putin Can Go Fuck Himself . . .

. . . up his perverted little hole, preferably after shoving some Bwreakshiteers and Neocons up there first.

We're better than we think we are, we're better than we know we are, but we need to make more effort, every day, especially in England.

M is for Men (and Mecki) Behaving Badly

Or . . . P is for Preening Pants-down Pooping Presidents, Piss-heads and Personalities

This post has grown over the last 72 hours from what might have been a couple of collages to a fuller round-up of characters and caricatures real and imagined, most behaving badly! All the images - with the exception of a return from The Work's Trumpton - courtasy of Mr. Berke in New York, but sent at various times from 2016, through to the other day, so many thanks to Brian.

Possibly the two most famous reprobates in modern English-speaking culture, both pretty hopeless, both fans of a beer or two and both would be less than nothing without the efforts of the long-suffering womenfolk in their lives! I say 'less than nothing' as neither has amounted to much in the course of events as it is!

The figure on the left - for those of you who have been in a coma since the die mauer came down - is none other than Homer Simpson, but many of you may need to be told that the figure on the right is Andy Capp, but, not the Germans, where I belive he is a well know (and re-named?) import.

Seen before, so a quick reprise and sadly nothing fictional about this international joke, it's the pooping, preening-pratt President himself! Carried by The Works over here about a year ago, however it appears that great minds think alike, as retailers over the pond . . .

. . . are offering this variation - he appears to be evacuating solids! Euwe! The store Ollie's could be the source - if you're looking for a late stocking-filler idea - but Jiahua Trading Inc., are claiming for it and - like the UK one - it's also in the form of a key-ring.

However, and returning to fictional characters and their love of beer . . . Mecki's drunk as a skunk (not sure how close hedgehogs are to skunks anyway?) and courting a lamp-post! But if you will elect to have a night-out with the other two, it's a foregone conclusion you'll be in trouble!

This was shot in an NY gift shop a couple of years ago, and they managed to get Trumps G7 Summit conference-pose - I'm going to cross my arms and stare past you all while doing la-la-la's in my head - some months before he did it . . . acting like a petulant child in front of the worlds 6-other main leaders, their number 2's and their entourages!

It's a hell of a line-up! Cheers again Brian!

I just like the thought that starting a side-collection of pants-down, pooping, presidents is a very real 'thing', with at least two key-rings and probably some of those Spanish terracotta 'crappers'!

B is for Brexidiocy

So, today is my Birthday. I don't need congratulations, it comes round all too regularly and the recurrence can't apparently be stopped, or even slowed down, so I am rather resigned to its annual appearance, tap-tap-tapping away at my left-time!

However; our useless premier had decided to make sure the day is forever seared into my brain as one to avoid by choosing to make it Brexidiocy Day too! At some point in the course of today, our relatively unelected Prime Minister will tell the rest of Europe we don't want to play in the same sandpit any longer.

For those who haven't been following UK domestic politics, or European wide politics; Brixidiocy Day is the day when the Brexidiots (just over half the voting population) subject the rest of us to their naive, politically ignorant, economically illiterate vision of a future of flag-waving little-Englanderism, where Albion shall march forward unstoppable toward a bright future as the head of BE2.0* as it sheds first Scotland, then Ireland and eventually Wales and Cornwall (or Kernow as it will likely be renamed).

* British Empire Two-point-nought

Yes, we are to leave the organisation we spent 20 years trying to join while the French said "NON!", the organisation which - once we had jointed - we then spent every waking hour whinging-in, complaining about, upsetting the other members- and/or vetoing the legislative program- of! When we weren't negotiating a rebate no one else asked for (or got) or trying - in the latter years - to get the Poles and Hungarians to help us push-through something legislatively ugly, intolerant or slightly fascist!

The nationalism of the Brexidiots is worn as a cloak to disguise their bigotry and xenophobia, their fantasy of BE2.0 at odds with 2,000 years of democratising and 100 years of pulling back from Empire which has lead to the relative safety of globalisation - what are we going to do? Renationalise Kenya, re-conquer India?

They hate that Nigerians, or Brazilians or even Canadians might have or can have what they have, or that they can compete in the boardroom for it, or the chance to have it, or that in order to both help the less fortunate AND save the planet, we might have to get by on slightly less, or accept reduced levels of consumerism.

It is the ending of 'Great' Britain, the beginning of the break-up of the Union and an isolationism which will leave us on the fringes of International affairs, ignored, ridiculed or pitied by turn.

While I would not want to be accused of trivialising or denigrating the terrorist attack on Westminster the other day, it is a fact that Mrs. May's speech that evening from the steps of No.10 was cringe-worthy, equating a nutter's misguided strike against what he perceived as 'Christian Authority' with Britains reputation around the world! Apparently written by someone else - and irrespective of how stilted her reading of it was - it was clearly a party election broadcast on behalf of the Brexidiocy.

And far from 'not winning' the terrorists are having a massive effect on 'Western Democracy' as we have seen in Britain with the Brexidiots and in the USA with Trumpton. The dumb descendants of the dumb people who put monkeys on trail as French spies, or who decided a drowned woman wasn't a witch, but a bedraggled, choking one, still tied to a wet stool, was; are now dictating national policy!

To talk of not running away; even as we run away, is obtuse, to talk of unity as we herald break-up and disharmony is fatuous, to pontificate about togetherness as we push away is retarded.

The 52% are guilty of manifest cowardice, and they will find that there is nowhere to run to, we've just left our mates in the next room while we lock ourselves in the bathroom and ring Uncle Sam: "Will you come and help us out?"!

Happy Brexidiocy Day! God could help us . . . but he doesn't exist!

I'll spend the day sorting Aurora for my sins.