Friday, November 22, 2002

And now, the bikini section. Lordy. What's going to happen at this year's ShariahBabes© Miss Wet Burqua competition? Doesn't bear thinking about.

Thursday, November 21, 2002

Those of you who subscribe to the view that Reuters is a right royal pain in the tits might imbibe an agreeable draught of schadenfreude on hearing that the company is laying off 50 journalists – 2% of its worldwide staff. Its share price is also at a 12-year low. This news is from the November 22 dead wood issue of the journos' weekly tattle-sheet, the Press Gazette but doesn't seem to have made it into their on-line version. I don't know, what's journalism coming to? Reuters on the way down, blogging on the increase... I blame the parents.
Cocktails, whisked as they were to my side by the retainer, were bloody necessary, I can tell you, as an attempted palliative for the throbbing, pulsing vein in my temple that begins its insistent samba every time I come across what's laughably called 'political correctness'. While the pinball wizard remains at large (see below) to spew his bad metaphysics from a North London mosque, at least the rozzers have jugged someone for hate speech. Samizdata alerts us all to the hate that lurks in the countryside. Christ all fucking mighty. We shouldn't be banning hunting, we should be extending its range to include anyone who believes that Robin Page is a bad guy while the wiz just represents a different culture. Wankers.
Don't look now, but the pinball wizard is back in the news and is just as lovable as ever. This fucker really is as good an example as any of why the war on terrorism is not going to be a cakewalk. The problem is that the war isn't just against medieval clowns who want women dressed in sacks and Cliff Richard stamped out (along with the demon skiffle, I shouldn't wonder); it's also against the liberal emasculation of any coherent defensive legislation that might keep the likes of the pinball wizard in chokey instead of infecting Finsbury Park, a charming part of London Town and proximal to the current home of my own, beloved, Arsenal Football Club. Incidentally, one factual error in this Reuter-doister of a tale; the wiz did not lose his hands to a landmine. In fact, he did it stunt-curling, something else which shariah law makes compulsory. Think about that, middle England. And there's the little, tinkling bell that alerts me to the cocktail hour at Jackal Towers. Basta!

Monday, November 18, 2002

Ah, good morning. The first news item that greets me this morning is from Pravda. The BBC, I mean. The lead item on Radio 3's 7.30 round-up is that paedophiles are to be watched more closely, both generally and on leaving prison. Well, isn't it good to know that? The Socialists can't do a thing about the Irish problem, having all but fellated Adams 'n' McGuinness, Al'Qaeda could drop by any time with a Samsonite surprise for one of our big cities, England is a sociopath's paradise, and we've got thousands of untraceable chums from Eastern Europe and suchlike all eager to join in. But at least the paedophiles are being watched. Blair was clever, as is customary, in tapping the pulse of the people over paedophiles. The trouble is, many of those are of the capacity of the goat-people who attacked a house, spraying 'paedo' on the wall, which was actually inhabited by a paediatrician. If you're going to sup with the British People, Tony, you'll be needing a fucking long spoon for some of them. See you anon!
Right then. [Clears throat, taps microphone]. This is the lair of the Union Jackal, English weblog rube and all-round newcomer to the Blogosphere. As I still have my stabilisers on the back wheel, I'll just post away and see how we get on.
If you're going to publish something on a weblog for the first time, always be sure to post it twice, that's our motto. Now; what does this button do, I wonder?
What's this? My faithful family retainer tells me we now have something called a 'weblog'. This marvel of the modern age is, apparently, to be 'built' and, furthermore, 'designed', so doubtless the tranquility of Jackal Towers is about to be shattered by packs of raucous, blustering mechanicals getting in the way and dropping things on each other's heads and feet. Gah!