But Is It Sport?

Britain's suggested new sport for London 2012 is considered by Olympic officials - "The 100m for people who just haven't got the hang of sex".


I watched the Olympics today. Now, call me Mr Cynically Inclined Damp Squib if you like but I just can't seem to get as excited about it all as everyone else is doing in this country.

We won a medal today. I forget the colour - I was too busy throwing things at the telly. The "sport"?...........BMX racing!! Fuck me sideways!!!!! What next? "International Hanging Round The Chip Shop and Drinking Thunderbird"? "The 4x100m Being Sick Outside a Nightclub and Showing Your Pants"?

I know the whole nation is busy singing the praises of our brave athletes as they notch up record amounts of medals but let's get things in perspective a little, shall we? As far as real sport is concerned - i.e. swimming and track and field - we have had that young lass from Mansfield winning double gold in the pool. She has done brilliantly and is the one true ray of sunshine. Well done her!!! Sadly, every other event in the swimming was completely overshadowed by the Americans entering a swordfish in pair of trunks who won everything else. When you're up against a bloke who could overtake a cross-Channel ferry in a straight race you ain't got much of a chance!

On the track, however, we have won just one medal so far. That was done by a woman who "forgot" to take a drugs test three times and was banned for life from competition before she successfully appealed. I'm saying nothing more. All our other competitors have stood true to the British Olympic motto of "It's not the winning that's important, it's the coming seventh".

It is, apparently, the right of every games to introduce new sports. As Beijing is hosting it this time around, I thought we could have looked forward to "tank stopping", "mass 'disappearing'" or "dissident torturing". No such luck. Instead, what have we had? Well, this morning, "Team GB" secured a bronze in......wait for it.......windsurfing!!!! Holy Christ!!!!!!!!

Elsewhere, our other triumphs have been in:

1. Sailing. They have managed to divide this alleged sport up not only into the two, acceptable categories, namely "sailing over different distances" and "sailing in different kinds of boats", but also into "sailing with lots of people on board", "Nobby No-Mates sailing", "sailing round little markers", "sailing in a straight line", "zi-zaggy sailing", "sailing when people are watching", "sailing in the dark", and "sailing off to South America while leaving your clothes on the beach and then getting your wife to claim the life insurance (freestyle)" etc, etc. It's ridiculous. I mean, there are surely only so many ways you can divide up a discipline. At this rate, we'll have the "100m with someone on your back", "the 100m on one leg", "the 100m in fancy dress", "the 100m backwards", "the 100m for people who can only run 80m" and so on, and so on, and so on. The sailors all fall into one overall category, however, namely the "sailing when you can't tell who's doing what or going where" category. Whichever event was being screened, the image was always the same - a pond filled with about 3,000 boats, all going in different directions like a sort of Battle of Trafalgar For People With No Sense of Direction. Over this incomprehensible melee the comentators would say things like "And there is Trevor, in seventh, trying desperately to out-tack the plucky American". What?????? Fuck off!!

2. Indoor cycling. This is another example of where loads of meaningless categories have been created when basically they should just try to find out who can go fastest and longest. I was, at first, attracted to the idea of indoor cycling. I thought it offered new possibilities, like "indoor pole-vaulting" and "lounge javelin throwing" would do. It turned out to be not that exciting. No-one had to negotiate a settee or armchairs, no-one got penalised for bumping into the cooker and there was no "King of the Stairs". It was just hours and hours and hours and hours and hours of people riding round, and round, and round, and round, sometimes being chased by others, sometimes following a bloke on a moped, sometimes crawling along and then, inexplicably, going very, very fast, sometimes riding at the top of the track, sometimes trundling along at the bottom of the track, eyeing everyone else up suspiciously. Not really my idea of fun.

3. Crying. We have excelled in this. We are strongest on the podium when the national anthem is played but Paula Radcliffe, fresh from her gold medal triumph in the World Incontinence Championship, blew away the competition just as she limped over the line in the marathon in that cherished position - 23rd.

All right, there was the rowing, which I do class as a sport, and I'm sure Britain has succeeded in other areas but they must be SO obscure that they have yet to be covered by the BBC (the outfit, by the way, which has sent MORE staff to Beijing than the nation has sent athletes!!)

Well, in four years time we've got the chance to really show the rest of the world how crap we are. Not only will we have the chance to win the medals no-one else wants, we will be staging the bloody thing and so there will be a host of additional attractions, like "the 100m-straight-up for tilers finishing off the roof" and the "speed concreting ahead of the marathon runners".

Maybe by 2012 we'll introduce as one our new sports "sitting on the settee and moaning a lot"? I might enter.

Nothing for Grantham.

"Call Me Dave."

"So, tell me, as a small dog, do you think subsidisation of the British banking system is ethically sound in the wake of the Government's total abandonment of the engineering, manufacturing, steel, shipping and motor industries in this country when they fell prey to the avaricious onslaught of capitalism?"


I had to interview David Cameron today. He called in at Daisytown as part of a whistle-stop tour (we journalists HAVE to write that - it's in our contract) of the country.

I am here to warn you...........he is a slippery customer! He had obviously been fully briefed by his spin doctors beforehand and knew just how to wriggle out of those awkward answers my questions demanded.
While other hacks were busy asking him about soaring inflation, an alleged crash in the property market and a perceived breakdown in the family unit, Pither took a different tack.

I reproduce below a transcript of my interview with him:

Pither: "Why are you such a cunt?"

Cameron: "I'd like to answer that question by first referring you to New Labour's record on education and the health service."

Pither: "Ok, so you admit you're a cunt, but why do you have to be such an oily, self-satisfied, pre-pubescent excuse for a cunt?"

Cameron: "I'm glad you asked me that because that is just what we at New Conservative are focusing on in moving forward with our drive to make Britain a place in which we will all be proud to live as part of a shared partnership with allied partners in which we are allied."

Pither: "What are the chances of you fucking off and dying in the next five minutes?"

Cameron: "I'm sorry to disappoint the dinosaurs of this country who stupidly believe in fair play, Socialism and the rich looking after the poor because I am in this for the long haul. I believe in putting the "Great" back into Great Britain and I also believe that snuurrr, flobble, grrrnchypoo, nnnnnngggggg, twimble......sorry, lost it a little there."

Pither: "...and putting the "cunt" back into "country", no doubt? No worries, Dave. Everyone knows you're a gibbering gland so they expect no less. Could I just ask you if your mother had ever heard of contraception and, if she had, why in the Holy name of fuck didn't she fucking practice it?"

Cameron: "I'm glad you've raised the issue of the breakdown in families. I strongly believe that.....that......is anyone going to eat that sausage roll?"

Pither: "Fuck off, knobcheese! I saw it first. Anyway, I have brought a gun with me so just bear with me while I put down my pen and notepad and cock the trigger. It's time to die, fuckarse, die!!!!"

Cameron: "Thank you. Will the photographer make sure to airbrush out the warts and the juvenile piss stains before you go to print?"

Bang, bang, bang.......the sound of sirens, a helicopter circling etc etc.

Ever had a shit day at work? Beat that one!!

Cameron can go to Grantham.

About a Boy.....and a Cow.

So, Gordon Brown is on his way out.....he is, I assure you. Watch this space. The lizards who are our elected representatives are all now on their summer hols, having called in all those promises made about trips to the Bahamas, The Maldives and all places exotic in return for the dodgy deals signed behind closed doors to give the big corporations as much cash as they can eat - at our expense.

The poisonous, snapping species of said lizards - namely those obsessed by greed, ambition and the overwhelming urge to shin up the greasy pole of politics - are not, however, enjoying the company of prostitutes paid for by Saudi princes. No, they are too busy. You see, they will be almost constantly on the phone to each other, plotting to see who will support them, who they will support, who they won't support. Yes, these avaricious bastards are excitedly jostling for position ready for a new leader to emerge.

It's all too familiar, as far as I'm concerned. Remember when John Smith died and left Labour leaderless? There was possibly one of the best leaders the party had had since the war. An honourable, committed, principled man who, I am certain, would have done great things and made this country the envy of the world, had he lived. Even Gordon Brown decided it would be apposite to put aside the rat race of politics for a couple of weeks to mourn the passing of a potentially great man. Not fucking Blair, however. He was plotting, scheming and manouevering the second John slumped forward in his chair. All right, he put in a cursory appearance at the funeral - complete with his "this is very sad so I'm looking serious and sombre" face. His cheesey grin and "nothing is harder to fake than sincerity" skills soon came to the fore, though, and the rest, as they say, was a social hysterectomy for us.

There are two of the current crop of poisonous, snapping lizards to keep an eye on.

The first is David Milliband, aka Milliband the Younger. He is known as that for two
reasons. One, there is another Miliband in the rats' cage, namely Ed Miliband, and he is older.
Ed is Cabinet Office Minister. He is aged 14.
David is 13. He is known as Miliband the Younger because, apart from being the second to emerge from the womb of The Cloven-Hoofed One, he likes flying his kite, riding his bicycle, making sandcastles and Airfix models and playing with his iPod.
He is also, according to his entry in Who's Who, starting to get strange, stubbly hair growing in his genital area and becoming interested in girls. Oh, and I forgot to mention..............HE IS THE CURRENT FUCKING FOREIGN SECRETARY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Get your fucking mind round that!! His experience of foreign and Commonwealth affairs amounts to one school holiday skiing in Italy, an exchange trip to France and a visit to the Isle of Wight with the cubs!!!! Seriously, you just couldn't fucking make up his appointment.
Worse than being pre-pubescent, he looks like a fucking Jehovah's Witness. (Incidentally, apologies to all Jehovah's Witnesses out there. I mean, you are all just a bunch of ignorant, boring, dangerous and deluded twats who are so mentally backward and brainwashed that you think that being infused with other people's blood will really piss off God. To liken you to something as low as Master D. Miliband is possibly unfair).
Miliband the Barmitzvah Boy is one of Blair's clones. He is totally plastic, with no morals, no principles, no ideas and no sense of society. He is, in truth, a classic American politician, the way Blair likes 'em.

The second lower reptile to keep an eye on is my personal bete noir. It calls itself Harriet Harman. It is, in truth, a Zenog from the planet Thwarg and should be shunned at every available opportunity.

I FUCKING HATE HARRIET HARMAN MORE THAN ANY OTHER SENTIENT BEING IN THE UNIVERSE WITH THE OBVIOUS EXCEPTION OF THATCHER AND JIM DAVIDSON!
Like half of New Labour, this stupid bitch is a solicitor. That's enough to disbar anyone from becoming a politician in the first place, I would have thought. She is the daughter of a Harley Street physician - so is, of course, completely in touch with the needs and aspirations of the man and woman in the street!
Blair handed her the Secretariat of Social Security when New Labour got elected and, to cut a painful story short, she completely fucked it up!!
She was, at the time, dubbed Harriet Harperson because of her obsessive and ridiculous PC and feminist ranting. Hariden Harman would be nearer the mark.
Well, in true New Labour form, despite having proved to be about as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike, Hariden made a return to the front bench after the 2001 election when she was made Solicitor General.
She voted for the Iraq war but later claimed she wouldn't have if she had been in possession of all the facts!! That....from the fucking Solicitor General!!! Since 2001 she has:
NOT voted on a freedom of information act.
Voted for introducing a smoking ban.
Voted for introducing ID cards.
Voted for introducing foundation hospitals.
Voted for introducing student top-up fees.
Voted for Labour's anti-terrorism laws.
AND...........
Voted against investigating the Iraq war.
Way to go, girl! Fly that Labour/Socialist flag!!

To give you some inkling of this so-called woman's brain power, hackers marvellously got control of her Blog in April this year and said she had joined the Tories. Not actually that far-fetched, when you think about it, but untrue. How did they manage to hack in? Well, Hariden was forced to admit that the incident was a result of her using "Harriet" and "Harman" as her username and password. Doh!!

This bitch also unveiled the EQUALITY Bill white paper in June. It included a proposal to allow organisations to take under-representation into account when selecting between two equally qualified candidates! The Bill, therefore discriminates against white men. Yup, that's what equality is all about, dickbreath!

Not content with that, she also commissioned a report on allowing political parties to draw up all-black shortlists. A further measure extended the arrangement allowing all-women shortlists until 2030. Now that's not discrimination, you understand. No, no, no, no, noooooooh! It's "positive" discrimination. It's different..........isn't it? Uuuurm, actually, having considered the matter............IT'S NOT FUCKING DIFFERENT. THERE IS NO "POSITIVE" DISCRIMINATION AND "NEGATIVE" DISCRIMINATION!!! THERE IS JUST DISCRIMINATION - AND I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, BUT I'M AGAINST IT!!

Well, if you can swallow the bullshit and lies she is feeding into the mainstream these days, you are no doubt in support of her current invented-for-her position - Minister for Women. Fuck off!! Fuck right off!!!! I am an ardent advocate of equality. Equality does NOT involve splitting us all up along manufactured lines and then legislating separately for each fragement. There are not "women" and "men", "blacks" and "whites", "gays" and "heteros", "fat people" and "thin people", "people who like red" and "people who don't like red", "people called Harriet Harman" and "people not called Harriet Harman"..........THERE ARE JUST PEOPLE!!! FUCKING DEAL WITH IT.

Well, just sit back and wait to see which of these wankers will step forward and say "Bye, Gord. Hey, everyone. Pick me, pick me, pick me!!"

The fact is, the fucking Tories will probably get in, anyway. The Great British electorate seems to have swallowed the crap coming out of Call-Me-Dave's mouth. Will the Tories be different to New Labour? You bet your arse they won't. Another five years of ultra-right wing shite! The fact is, the herd of voters in this fucking country would even vote for Eric the Dancing Llama, so long as he promised to cut taxes. They'd then start moaning in incredulity about all the fucking services being cut - as they have been over the last 30 years. Trouble is, they all just want to be "considerably richer than yow" and have no idea that their greed comes at a price. Fuck 'em.

(Miliband and Harman hold secret talks over who should take over from Brown.)

Miliband can go to Grantham, Harman can definitely go - and she can take the vast majority of the British electorate with her!

In Which Pither Hits An All Time Low

I've got fleas!

There, I've said it. The truth is out there.

The Almighty - not content with smoting me on a daily basis, banishing my hair from the place in which it once was, making my body as three, realigning my teeth and taking many to sit at his right hand - hath sent a new plague to test me.

Ok, so I'm not being strictly accurate, in biological terms. You see, it's actually Dave who has fleas. He didn't tell me about it and I didn't realise - until this morning.
The dog flea - or Ctenocephalides canis, if you're Italian - is host specific (if I remember things I was once taught) and so does not take up permanent residence on other species. It does, however, go on brief holidays and have days out and, as Dave sleeps on the bed with me, said flea's access to a new continent full of delights is a mere hop away.


I woke up today bitten to buggery! I thought, at first, that there had been an influx of mozzies in the night, sleeping as I do with the French windowns open. Then I noticed young Dave, contorting himself, back legs up round his ears, scratching like a queue at a clap clinic. Oh dear! Looks like my weekend is mapped out for me. Delousing will be the order of the day and a flea shampoo bath is in the offing - for both of us!

Anyway, I care not. You see, I am on holiday now for a week. Hurrah! In fact, such is my holiday mood that I popped out last night to celebrate my hols by having a couple of dry sherries at the Kebab and Calculator. I was medivacced out at 9pm and hit the hay soon afterwards.
I awoke, as usual, at 5am, and fed the dogs, fed the birds, fed the fish - and then fed myself. I found a pizza on the kitchen table. I have no recollection of ordering it - but there it was, and breakfast was sorted. Now that's a nutritionally balanced start to the day.
Trouble is, I then decided to go back to bed, being the first day of my holiday, 'n' all. I have just woken up again...............at 4pm!!!!! That has to be some sort of record. I haven't done that since I was a teenager (like a lot of things).

Part of me feels really guilty, really disgusted, really ashamed. The other part of me feels proud, contented and as though I have done exactly what I should have done. No doubt the battle of consciences will resolve itself shortly.

So, what to do? Well, I vaguely remember from last night that my pals The Farmer and Tomato Head were popping out for a livener today at around teatime and that seems a splendid plan. God, I just love holidays.

Fleas can go to Grantham, but nothing else.