Tag Archives: Fail

The Mic is Always On

It’s one of the first things we tell people in media training whenever we’re asked to do it – it doesn’t matter how well you know the hack, it doesn’t matter how quiet you think you can do it, it doesn’t matter how flippant your remark might be, the open mic of the news media is guaranteed to pick it up.

So to see such a huge cock up today, from a seasoned political operator, clinging to power  desperate to stop his party not just losing power, but losing the right to form the official opposition was stunning. To call a voter you’ve just patted on the back a bigot for asking questions (which incidentally weren’t in my opinion bigoted at all – just concerned) is naive beyond belief.

Of course, behind a closed fader or a slammed phone or door, we’ve all said what’s on our minds – “tosser” is my favourite insult to hurl – but in the middle of an election, to someone that you’d probably just won around to your side again, an easy win – jesus. Brown was right, it was a disaster!

In between the chuckles and gawping at the slow-motion car crash that unfolded all afternoon, Brown made his appearance in a radio studio and looked like a broken man, head practically on the table, perhaps the funniest part of that interview wasn’t shown much after the initial live encounter: when challenged on losing the election, he chucked his head and arms back and rolled his eyes so hard he looked like he might damage himself. It was a tragic display from a broken man, and a broken party – there was no defence from Mandelson, Prescott or any of the others in the cabal: then the squatting in the poor old dear’s house until an awkward apology was no doubt extracted… it was just a car crash.

As a communications specialist I think this will be an important nail in the coffin of the Labour campaign: I don’t think it’s the stake through the heart that certain commentators are predicting it’s going to be – but I do think that Brown’s now a wounded animal, and that’ll be a dangerous game for both Cameron and Clegg to play with. CCHQ have been remarkably restrained all day, LDHQ slightly less so – but it shouldn’t be forgotten that wounded animal’s lash out – sometimes fatally – so it’ll be interesting to see how they both handle him.

Great Britain PLC is screwed

I’m almost too depressed to blog about politics at the moment, the current situation looks like it’s lurching toward what we all feared as a worst case scenario; that being Brown staying in power until the the most bitter of ends. He and his cronies have done absolutely nothing but panic the markets spinning out expensive nonsense while actually spending more time fighting disent within their own party. The Labour party is spinning into oblivion as the sparkly nu-labour types fight for little more than their expenses and perks knowing that they’ve got another 12 months of piss-taking before they’re going to be booted out at the next election; and at the opposite end of the scale the hard left of the party who never reformed seem to be gleefully rubbing their hands together at the opportunity to launch a scorched earth campaign on Britain, devestating the economy with poor choices and inaction so as to push through some Soviet style laws that’ll hold back the recovery of our ecomony for years to come.

People have been calling for bankers to be called to book, it’d be nice to see the political class also brought to book, unfortunately it’s not going to happen until the next election, but when it does let’s hope that not only do they get booted out in a landslide, but also that the powers that be step in to open up the books, dig around for the bodies and make sure that those that stood by fiddling their expenses while the economy was going tits up get locked up for a long time. </rant>

We’re doomed

Flint's real message!So the cat has been let out of the bag, not that it wasn’t already obvious, the “economic prudence” which ended the cycle of boom and bust has ended up in what’s looking increasingly like a bust, as Caroline Flint carelessly left her files open to the prying lenses of the political paparazzi, showing the world just how worried they all are that we’re heading for a 10% drop in house prices and potentially a corresponding slump in the rest of the economy.

This is, of course, especially bad news for Brown, who’s entire reputation has been built on his financial ‘genius’ as if he didn’t have enough to cope with at the moment worrying about the ten pence tax debacle, his chancellor frantically giving away money the government can’t afford to lose, while all at once embarrassing Britain in the eyes of the liberal world by not inviting the Dali Lama to Downing St when even the knuckle dragger in the White House managed to keep his appointment with the Tibetan spiritual leader at the big house.

Add to this the stress of watching his back at all times from the press, the opposition, and his own (rightfully) livid backbenchers, but also from former colleagues and acquaintances in Blair (Mrs), Levy (Lord) and Prescott (Two Jags and a bucket of lard) all revealing semi-salacious memoirs of their time in and around Number 10, all of which don’t paint a favourable picture of dear Gordon, he must be counting the days until he can quit this job.

It’s been interesting watching the various media channels today, the tone has swung from quiet resignation to outraged and shocked in the announcement that the economy is probably screwed. I don’t think anyone will be able to keep up outraged and shocked for too long, no matter how much damage they might wish to inflict on Brown, simply because anyone with half a brain has been able to see that you can’t continue to inflate the countries economy with ultra-cheap credit propping up all retail and property spending, let alone the state spending that was coming out of coffers unknown, we’ve been in a bubble for some time; we can now only hope that the landing for most will be softer than predicted.

Photo borrowed for a spot of Tuesday afternoon photoshopping from The Times.

It’s very telling when even the urban graffiti turns against you…

Thanks to Gordon Brown, I will never buy a house.I’ve always thought that graffiti is one of the most telling yardsticks of general feeling, so it was with no surprise that I spotted this in The London Paper…

A solemn message from the baby-buster generation to Mr Brown (i’m not listening la la) and the wider world. it’s not before time that my generation, who are currently lucky if they can rent something in central london for less than 300 quid a month, finally speak up about the broken property ladder in the capital…

On Hold

On hold to a store that shall remain nameless who entertain their customers while on hold with Recipe Idea I heard, and I kid ye not:

“Why not heat some garlic oil… add chopped and de-seeded chilli…. and toss vigourously.”

Yes, but after I’ve tossed vigourously, what is one supposed to do with the garlic and chopped chilli?


You coward, you utter utter coward, you’ve been going on for ages about an election, a mandate, a way forward, but now with the conservative revival you run to the hills to ‘continue your work’ – yep, fucking up the country, running a mile from any issue, and hiding away shoving other ministers into the on-coming furore to keep your ‘british’ agenda on track.

You lilly livered non-mandated dour cunt.

Fuckwit Builders

We have the idiot workmen from hell digging up the road outside our house, bearing in mind how parking is at such a premium they’ve decided to ‘help’ residents by forgetting to get a proper parking suspension and have proceeded to dig massive holes in the road effectively beaching cars in little islands of tarmac.

You think I’m kidding, then behold…

Idiot Builders

Marooned Car

Apparently this is only the beginning, and it’s going to get worse, with them performing open heart surgery on the gas main along the whole street for the next 3 weeks, I’m dreading it frankly as they’re noisy, the mess is appalling and it’s going to be a nightmare to get deliveries to the house… and the irony of this, is that even to use the road we now have to pay eight quid a day for the privilege

Media Guardian is not trying…

Capital FMSpotted this in Media Guardian today, headlining a story about how Capital is hemorrhaging listeners, and I couldn’t help but giggle at the photo, I mean how long is it since the radio cafe closed? When did capital last use that logo? Are we actually using a photo that’s about 10 years old? – Come on Media Guardian, do try harder!

Party Decapitation

It’s with a certain sense of disbelief that we’re currently watching the Labour Party implode on itself, as if they didn’t have the lessons of the breakdown of the Thatcher Era to look to for a definite way not to unseat one’s leader. As fat-faced junior ministers resign and the rumour mill over Blair’s almost certain departure go into overdrive we’re once again watching a party tear itself to shreds trying to ditch the one person that made them ‘votable’.

Not that I’d have a heavy heart if the Labour party were booted out of power into the political wilderness for the next 20 years, it’s just the bit between Blair leaving and the next general election that I’m worried about, let’s face it the country could be tossed back to practical communism with a hint of Scottish nationalism if Brown ascends to number 10, and with Reid banging his immigration and terrorism drum to a frenzied beat it’ll be fascism meets Big Brother if he gets in – and I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if that’s not also tinged with a hint of Scottish nationalism too…

The rest of the runners in the battle to become the next leader of the not-quite-yet leaderless Labour Party are political nobodies, the nearest they get to well-profiled is David Milliband, who’s hardly a major player; so it would seem that it’ll be down to Reid and Brown when Blair either goes, or the party decapitates itself – the real question of course it which of those will it be, can Teflon Tone hang on grimly or will there be some action in the coming weeks that relegate him to the after-dinner speech market permanently.


Oh good god it’s been a long weekend, and not in an all night out hilariously expensive drink bill way; we’re out of the old house and now happily ensconced in the ‘in-between’ half way house while we sort out the final parts of our move having not been able to make move in and move out dates coincide. So we’ve spent the last two days getting up at 7am lumping and dumping stuff from the house to the storage unit, cleaning the old place and making sure we weren’t putting stuff into storage that we’d need in the interim weeks before moving into our new place.

As if moving house isn’t stressful enough, I’ve found an experience within the house moving chain that I dislike even more than the lumping and dumping itself… that is; putting stuff into storage. We chose the Big one that’s Yellow, Staple’s Corner seemed like the nearest and easiest to access, so we booked it over the phone; “Yeah fine Mr Evans” they said; It’ll be hundred odd quid, no don’t worry about ID we’ll just need a driving license” – Yeah… Right.

On arriving at the unit we were showed the ‘room’ – I’m assuming the assistant thought that we may not be able to imagine an empty 70ft Square box; we then got down to doing the paperwork, and that’s when it all started to go awry, “oh no sir the sales assistant said. “We can’t do it for that price, because to do that you’ll need to do it via direct debit he said, fair enough… I thought, until and for that you’ll need a bill, another form of ID and something with your address on the sales assistant said, his face unchanged, still looked as happy as a wanking jap, so without those forms of ID – all back at the old house with the paperwork we need to take to the stop-gap house, we ended up paying just over £400 for 8 (apparently cheaper than 4) weeks storage…

…and today when we needed to go back with the odds and sods that were left over, would the bastards at Staple’s Corner answer their phones so we could check opening hours, would they bugger: after trying for over an hour to phone them I decided to give the Finchley Branch a call, they said No problem sir… you should be able to book the 24 hour access over the phone… I’ll e-mail them to let them know you’re trying to call them the helpful chap said, shortly after I finally got through to Staple’s Corner, only to find the phone answered by the grinning idiot; “I’d like to get 24 hour access tonight please…” I said, “oh no sir” the baboon said we won’t do that over the phone (despite him saying to the Asian couple unloading their van next to ours the other day that they could), “why not…” I said, “because you have to book it at the front desk I won’t do it over the phone“, “…but the guy at Finchley said you could, and you said yesterday…” no he said (still sounding like he was going to break into fits of giggles: “why not” I said, “I’m 80 miles away and really need access”, “Well you have to book it at the front desk“.

Exasperated I asked “well why…” and was promptly cut off with: “because” before the phone was cut off. I’m presuming he was about to say “Because I’ll offer it to my mates, but won’t offer it to you because it’s almost knocking off time and I can’t be bothered to deal with customers because I’m far to important and I’ve got a hot date with a copy of Max Power, and Handkerchief and a Mother Hubbard’s five daughters: Fucking Wanker.