The Sunday Ishmael: 01/02/2026

 

Rabbits, Rabbits, Rabbits.

Well, saying "rabbits" is a lot less painful than: "a pinch and a punch for the first of the month" and has the advantage of being a solitary ritual, whereas the P&P requires one to find another person to assault, and may not end well, should charges be pressed. No good saying to the Magistrate "I'm just ensuring good luck for the rest of the month, Your Honour." 

Mandelson certainly is the gift that keeps on giving, n'est ce pas? 

Here he is in his tighty whiteys, consulting with a woman wearing a dressing gown. Just ambassadorial attire, in the privacy of one's home. As he said, he's a gay man, so never noticed any of the goings-on at Epstein's Island, or on the Lolita Express. And it was just nice of  Epstein to give Mandelson's husband, Reinaldo Avila da Silva, £10 grand to pay for an osteopathy course plus related expenses in 2009 when he emailed asking for money.  

Seriously? Is this how the rich carry on? Just handing out money should someone ask? Well, yes, the Epstein files also show two payments of $25,000 (£18,270)  to accounts under Mandelson’s name in June 2004. Mandelson, of course, has a history of approaching rich men and asking for money. There was that little business in 1996 when he asked Cabinet colleague, Geoffrey Robinson, to buy him a house, basically on the basis that Robinson had money and he didn't, and Robinson obliged with an unsecured, interest-free personal loan of £373,000, against a £475,000 house in Northumberland Place in Bayswater, which Mandelson failed to declare on his mortgage application to the Britannia Building Society for funds to cover the rest of the purchase price. Just that the form was too complicated for him, surely? He also forgot to declare it in the Register for Member's interests, and also hid it from the boss, Tony Blair, who called him Bobby.

Then there were the free holidays with dodgy, but wealthy, foreigners. His New Year's Eve holiday on Paul Allen's yacht in January 2005, for example. Paul Allen being the co-founder of Microsoft, who, at the time, was under a major E.U.  investigation. Mandelson was a European Commissioner at the time.  And the free cruise on a yacht in 2006 from Diego Della Valle, whose luxury shoe businesses subsequently benefitted from tariffs imposed on Chinese shoes by Mandelson as EU Trade Commissioner. 

Then there was the Rothschild party in 2008, which Mandelson attended while yachting near Corfu, with Russian oligarch Oleg Deripaska. Rothschild wrote a letter to The Times newspaper alleging that another guest was Conservative Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer, our old friend Bukkake George*

who, he said, illicitly tried to solicit a donation from the Russian for his political party.

Mandelson had been chums for several years with Deripaska. As European Union Trade Commissioner, Mandelson had been responsible for two decisions to cut aluminium tariffs that had benefited Deripaska's United Company Rusal. Mandelson denied that there had been a conflict of interest and said that he had never discussed aluminium tariffs with Deripaska. On 26 October 2008, however,  the Shadow Foreign Secretary William (Miscarriages) Hague said the "whole country" wanted "transparency" about Mandelson's previous meetings with Deripaska. In response, Prime Minister Gordon Brown 

said Mandelson's dealings with Deripaska had been "found to be above board". Mandelson said that meeting business figures from "across the range" in emerging economies was part of his brief as EU Trade Commissioner.

It is said that scandals surrounding Conservative politicians tend to be about sex, whereas the scandals of Labour politicians are about money. 

How do they initiate these conversations? "Oh, hello, lovely to meet you, can I have some money/a new house/free holidays/new glasses?"

The Dark Baron Mandelson said he was very sorry for his connection with Epstein, which caused him yet another sacking. Really, the Labour lot must have a serious lack of talent to draw upon, to keep on reinstating Mandelson despite his evident cupidity and appalling judgement. Well, yes, they struggle to find anyone who can

sit straight, breathe and lie compellingly at the same time, so Mandelson, with his assured, well-bred televisual mien, self-confidence and gentle hauteur, is a giant among pigmies. 
 

The latest tranche of Epstein documents has one open-mouthed in admiration of Epstein's work ethic. My word, the boy really took his work as a Russian tool seriously, constantly on his email - wherever did he find the time to fit it all in? The "sources" say he's a deffo Russian asset although there is no documentary evidence linking Putin and his spies directly to Epstein's illicit activities. Don't let a total lack of evidence get in the way of speculation, though. The most hilarious in the cache includes an email claiming Bill Gates asked one of Epstein's advisers to provide antibiotics for him to secretly administer to his wife to surreptitiously treat sexually transmitted diseases he'd contracted due to 'sex with Russian girls'. This has been robustly denied. Of course.

But the "sources" also claim that while US security services 'monitored' Epstein's Russian connections for years, Britain's Secret Intelligence Service were hesitant due to Epstein's connection to King Charles III's younger brother, who, it seems from photographic evidence, was in the habit of giving tours of the royal palaces to his dodgy pimp, Epstein and his procuress, Ghislaine Maxwell, including allowing them to sit on the throne usually warmed by the royal posterior of Her Majesty, the QE2, God bless her.  

American "sources" believe Epstein was inducted into the world of espionage via business deals with Robert Maxwell, the disgraced media magnate who - like Epstein - died in murky circumstances; in Maxwell's case his body was found floating in the Atlantic in 1991, having apparently fallen overboard from his yacht.  

The whole thing is like a rather preposterous film. Starring Matt Damon. Kind of makes you glad you are not rich and aristocratic. I'm assuming here, Dear Reader, that you are not rich, aristocratic, sexually compromised or a Russian asset.

What else can be said about Andrew? The man's an oaf, a sex-addicted, gullible pillock, with his hand out for money more frequently than that of the Dark Baron. Is he, like his great uncle, Edward VIII, a traitor? Or just a useful fool? The more documents that are released, the more compromised he appears. The Democrats were just wanting to get compromising material on Trump - what they found, though, was enough, in a sensible world, to end the monarchy in Britain. The nonce-adjacent Windsor brothers are looking a tad under the weather.  

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There are four splendid anthologies of the writings of stanislav and mr ishmael, compiled by his friend, mr verge, the house filthster. You can buy them from Amazon or Lulu. Here's how:

Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.

Ishmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps 

please register an account first, at lulu.com. This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box. Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.

Link for Hardcover : https://tinyurl.com/je7nddfr

Link for Paperback : https://tinyurl.com/3jurrzux

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

At checkout, try WELCOME15 in the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before postage. If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.

With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.

........................................................................

*Bukkake Udon

In the Japanese culinary world, bukkake means “to splash liquid upon.” It means the same thing in the porno world. Both will require slurping. Bukkake Udon contains thick wheat noodles served with a chilled broth made of dashi, soy sauce, mirin, and sugar. The noodles have a variety of toppings: ramen egg, pickled ginger, green onions, nori, fried garlic, bonito flakes, toasted sesame seeds, etc. The chilled broth is then poured over the noodles. You can look at it almost like a wet noodle salad.

The Sunday Ishmael: 25/01/2026

Danish Major General Soren Andersen participating in a military exercise held in Nuuk,  demonstrating how Europe will protect Greenland from the US.

 I may be out on a limb here, but I'm enjoying President Trump more and more. He's got exactly what he wanted out of Davos, just by reminding NATO how impotent it would be without him, issuing a few threats to tariff the fuck out of everybody, without fear or favour, and telling them that he is not going to invade Greenland.

"Oh dear, mrs ishmael, you've got this so wrong. Let me explain. Trump is senile, narcissistic and thin-skinned and attempted to blackmail Norway because he didn't get the Nobel Peace Prize."

"I thought it was Denmark owns Greenland?"

"The poor people of Greenland are happy that Denmark and NATO  protect them. Trump is a convicted felon. In his ramblings he believes Greenland and Iceland are the same place."

"Thank you for explaining. I thought the Greenlanders hate Denmark? Forced sterilisations, abducted children, medical experimentation, poor living conditions?"

Black mould on the roof of a government-owned apartment block for low-income Greenlanders.

"Bless you, mrs ishmael, issues of global economic growth and the protection of the West cannot be dictated to by the whims of a handful of discontented Eskimos."

"Oh dear."

"Don't worry: as Macron says it will be the most powerful who will dictate policy and the USA is not powerful: their debt exceeds their GDP. The U.K. holds a great quantity of U.S. debt - we bought it off China. So we have leverage over the United States."

"For fuck's sake - has anyone told Trump that we're in charge? Are you serious? Macron?

Macron? Really?"

"France, like ourselves, is a major nuclear power. We are the natural leaders of the free world, projecting strength against Putin's Russia, and, yes, the United States."

"Has it been established that Madame la Presidente Jolie Gilf stuck her finger in Manu's eye? Who are you, by the way, and what are you doing on my blog?"

"You may refer to me as a source close to Government, mrs ishmael. The Official Secrets Act precludes me from saying any more."

" Aye, right. So that's the official Labour position. Explains a lot. Now just fuck right off, Source."

Ah, yes, the sex pots of Davos, where one punter booked 5 women for 4 days at a cost of £90,000 without additional necessary expenses for hotel rooms, restaurants, drinks and gifts. A more usual expenditure would be £17,000 for a single escort booking (Swiss escort agency, myLADIES) 

Here's Manu slobbering over the hand of Queen Matthilde of Belgium, while King Philippe looks approvingly on. Foreigners, eh?

Before we leave the topic of how Starmer is in charge of the Western World, together with his petit ami, Manu, spend a moment contemplating this:

No, it's not a joke. The coat of arms of the British Indian Ocean Territory was granted on 4 October 1990, by Royal Order of Queen Elizabeth II on the 25th anniversary of the territory's establishment. The flag's centrepiece represents the ocean, with the Union Flag and St. Edward's Crown representing British rule of the territory. The two species of turtle supporting the centrepiece represent the local wildlife. The motto is In tutela nostra Limuria, which means “Limuria is in our charge/trust”.   Lemuria was once believed to occupy the Indian Ocean, the Chagos Islands being the last remnants of this non-existent continent.  Although the Union flag is present on the coat of arms, which also records our promise to look after Limuria, the UK Government agreed to  transfer sovereignty of the Chagos Archipelago to Mauritius and will pay an average annual fee of £101million to continue using the military base on Diego Garcia. 

Between 1967 and 1973, the entire population of the Chagos Archipelago was either prevented from returning or forcibly removed by the United Kingdom. The removals were carried out to make way for the establishment of a joint UK–United States military base on Diego Garcia. The main forcible removal of Diego Garcia's population took place in July and September 1971. Mauritius has repeatedly claimed the Chagos Archipelago as part of its territory and that the British claim is a violation of United Nations resolutions banning the dismemberment of colonial territories before independence. Given the absence of any progress with the UK, Mauritius took up the matter in various legal and political fora, eventually prevailing. 

On 22 May 2025, the agreement was signed by the UK and Mauritius; the dispute will end once the deal is ratified by both parties. So it is all done, bar the shouting. But then Trump decided it was a rubbish deal and so Starmer (one of the twin giant pillars of the world, remember, a bit like Mark Antony) has paused the Bill's passage through the House. We'll see how that goes. And gorgeous, pouting Andy Burnham, the King of the North, has stirred. It really is getting epic. 

Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of Manchester.

...................................................................

There are four splendid anthologies of the writings of stanislav and mr ishmael, compiled by his friend, mr verge, the house filthster. You can buy them from Amazon or Lulu. Here's how:

Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.

IIshmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps 

please register an account first, at lulu.com. This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box. Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.

Link for Hardcover : https://tinyurl.com/je7nddfr

Link for Paperback : https://tinyurl.com/3jurrzux

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

At checkout, try WELCOME15 in the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before postage. If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.

With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.

In Memoriam

Ishmael Smith, 1950 to 23rd January 2020

Writer, Satirist and Blogger

i.m.stanislav, the young polish plumber

by editor mr verge

Flush Test
 
You want proof? You want proof?
Give a man a mask, he’ll tell the truth.
 
Mike Skinner // The Streets
 
*
 A radical egalitarian in all things,
he held anointed betters
to the highest standards of contempt,
as scathing in his skewering of Ian Paisley
as the other lot.
[A Martian posts a kill-list home.]

|
 
Our samizdat Tass ~ Dyno-Rod Reuters :
that vent stack let us laugh like unblocked drains.
 
| |

The contrarian genius of stanislav,
forever young, forever mad as holy hell,
and funnier than snotbuns at a White House piss-up,
will sustain us through the never-never national debt,
the hollow bellend on the throne,
& Downing Street’s feculent louse.
______________
 
xxiii.i
 
Gustave Doré,
Edvard Munch
Salvador Dalí
ishmael smith
Shaanxi Earthquake, 1556
 
 
 

The Sunday Ishmael: 18/01/2026

 Where to begin, this week, as the world inches towards destruction?

O.K. Lets go with matters domestic. Birmingham, to be specific. Birmingham has always had a problematic police force. Take a moment to remember the Birmingham Six, with mr ishmael:

It's the logic of Ruin.

The Birmingham 'pub bombings  were truly cowardly; the IRA deliberately targeted  young civilians, killing and maiming scores of them and the West Midlands cops - scum, even by police standards - framed the first six paddies they got their hands on.  Lord Denning-Slag, among others, crushed their first appeal on the basis  that it didn't matter if the police had lied, it simply would not be good for public order, public confidence,  if he upheld the overwhelming evidence that they had lied their arses off.  Best in the world, envy of the world,  British justice. 

Nasty little shit, Craig Guildford, has controversially been allowed to resign,  departing without an apology for recommending that Maccabi fans should be banned instead of policed, or to the Jewish community for saying the force had consulted them when it had not. Nor for accepting without question or verification  an A.I. hallucination about the behaviour of Maccabi football fans at a match that didn't happen. Nor for consulting the notorious Green Lane Mosque, asking them what to do.  West Midlands Police and Crime Commissioner Simon Foster, the person with the power to dismiss Guildford, said Guildford had "acted with honour and in the best interests of West Midlands Police". There's those saying Foster himself should now be sacked after his failure to sack Guildford:  The Campaign Against Antisemitism called for Simon Foster to resign over his "pitiful" failure to sack the chief constable. Instead of thanking his god, fasting, for being allowed to hang onto his pension, the shit, Guildford, blamed the "political and media frenzy" around his position, which he said had become "detrimental" to the work of his officers and staff. So, nothing to see here, move on. 

After blaming the press for his defenestration, rather than accepting that his outrageous lies and racism caused his disgrace, the massive arse Guildford is now consulting lawyers about the possibility of suing for constructive dismissal in a bid for a six-figure payout, potentially worth more than £600,000, as the Daily Mail  revealed. Sources close to Mr Guildford said ‘constructive dismissal is on his mind’, and he is seeking a ‘significant payout’ as he had almost three years left on his contract worth a total of £288,700 a year. However, the Independent Office for Police Conduct (IOPC) suggested that Guildford will face a misconduct investigation, having scrutinised the  report by Chief Inspector of Constabulary Sir Andy Cooke, which detailed how evidence was fabricated and exaggerated by police to justify a ban on Israeli fans attending the Aston Villa v Maccabi Tel Aviv game in Birmingham in November last year.

Now, why would the shit, Guildford, have done such an outrageous thing, decades after the WMPS supposedly cleaned up its act, supposedly stopped lying and stopped planting evidence? Could it have something to do with this gentleman?

 Ayoub Khan, independent MP for Birmingham Perry Barr, criticised Mr Guildford’s retirement, saying it was ‘one of the greatest injustices of our time’ that a chief constable was ‘sacrificed not for failure, but for doing his duty’. He said too many people, particularly MPs, were using the affair to stir up division and further attack Muslim communities in the city and paint them as universally 'antisemitic', when the ban was predicated on 'public safety grounds'.

Why was it that Craig Guildford prioritised the muslim position? Could the fact that he owed his job to Birmingham muslims explain his deference to muslim hatred of Jews?  The former chief executive of Green Lane Mosque, Kamran Hussain, was part of the team that assessed Craig Guildford before he was made Chief of West Midlands Police three years ago. Since which time, it seems that Guildford's decisions have been in line with muslim sensibilities. Before banning Maccabi supporters from attending a Europa League match against Aston Villa, the force consulted the mosque, which is based around four miles away from Villa Park Stadium.

Green Lane Mosque is a controversial establishment - in 2023 an investigation by the Mail on Sunday found that the Green Lane Mosque gave a platform to imams giving sermons on how to stone a woman 'correctly' for adultery and delivering speeches that appeared to incite murder of members of the LGBT+ community.

During a sermon at Green Lane mosque in December, preacher Aqeel Mahmood made misogynistic comments and said men can physically punish their wives as a 'last resort' if they disobey - he advised men to physically discipline their wives as a 'last resort' if they were rebellious, saying that men have 'a level of authority over the woman'. The punishment should not result in pain, injury or fear, (how do you do that? "Here, dear, don't be frightened, thank me for hitting you, and look what you made me do. Again.") Mahmood then said that it is 'common sense' that wives should not leave their children in the care of others to carry out errands such as shopping and that women should never leave the house without the permission of their husbands unless it is a life and death situation.

In addition to inciting men to commit Actual Bodily Harm on their wives, in early 2025, Green Lane Mosque published videos on its YouTube site of sermons given by Mahamed AbdurRazaq - a preacher who, in 2024 said men are 'allowed to hit' their wives if they refuse sex. Basically, an incitement to rape.

There really is something seriously wrong with these blokes, and why West Midlands Police are pandering to them is a mystery. As is why they are not prosecuted for incitement to assault and rape. Then marched vigorously down the cells as a way of letting them know, without inflicting pain, injury or fear, that we don't do that sort of thing in this country. Clearly, the fuss about the Pakistani Muslim rape gangs has just sailed way over their pointy little heads.

A spokesperson for Campaign Against Antisemitism said: 'The fact that West Midlands Police thought this was a reputable organisation to get an informed opinion from is just embarrassing. With these allegations of abhorrent comments made by its guest speakers, this mosque's track record should have had alarm bells ringing. West Midlands Police should have followed the intelligence without fear or favour. It clearly told them that the threat came not from Israeli or Jewish fans, but from thugs and Islamists in their local community who planned to attack them." 

Khizra Bano, a former British police officer, who called Craig Guildford a 'massive arse' and accused him of bullying, has said she warned West Midlands Police against taking him back when he previously retired in a dodge to preserve his pension. She also claims she was warned of being 'caught in the crossfire' after she supported the case of Rebecca Kalam against the force - a claim they deny. Firearms officer Kalam successfully sued the force for harassment, sex discrimination and victimisation and won a record £820,000 payout in January 2024. 

During a meeting Bano attended to support a colleague who had been called into Guildford's office, Bano claims Guildford employed 'bullying behavior' by being belligerent and hostile and repeatedly asking if she was 'actually a police officer.' Bano said: 'He said that nobody had ever spoken to him like this before and I said, 'Maybe they should have and you wouldn't be such a massive arse'.

..............................................

In other matters domestic, we had the hilarious spectacle of Nadhim Zahawi being welcomed into Reform, only to have his thunder stolen by the outrageous self-publicist, Jenrick. As Kemi said, Farage is welcome to him - gosh, I do like her. It leads me into a piece by the young Polish plumber, stanislav, on politics, politicians, Birmingham and Muslims. Welcome back, stanislav: 

Only proper thing should happen of course  is that house of commons bastards should all go in Wormwood fucking Scrub for good few years and no conjugal visit have off visiting taxpayer-funded rentboys, or special advisers, as is known. And no cocaine smuggle in from Mayor's office.  Anything else is bollocks. Election is bollocks. Bunch of thieving,  incompetent degenerates running around the fucking country shaking hand and slobbering poxed-up slobber all over innocent citizen and child and spreading warts,  like Mr Simon Straight of shiteating party,  saying Vote for Me, No fuck off, Vote for Me when is all fucking rotten,  criminal, babykilling, monster and fuckpig, cutpursing, malevolent blackguard, crawl out from underneath Satan foreskin and up against wall, motherfuckers, should be. 

Today, stanislav takes temperature in Birmingham, used to be workshop of Empire and manufacture every fucking thing, from tiny little needle to big fuck-off Howitzer and Spitfire and lorry and van and car and see how Brummy will vote,  now  whole fucking place  just poxy shopping centre is, Selfridges ugly building and Merry Hell Centre in Duddl-eye .

But Brummy probably not vote will because is now unemployed lazy useless bastard and can only get out of bed on giro day, and can't  arsed be to vote and no point is anyway,  although Brummy not as bad is, obviously, as Jock, ginger, mutant, cross-dressing, wife-beating, child molesting  bastard out from mind on tonic wine, cheap smack and tomazepam has gone, lying in fucking gutter in vomitstained shellsuit and tattoo on forehead saying JUCK and never day's decent work has done or even can read and fucking write, only  to scribble "please fuck my arse, the noo"  down on public toilet wall, "for fifty pee, discount for parties, arranged can be, d'ye ken. Nae English."

Is not Glasgow or anything but fucking shithole is anyway,  Birmingham, these days, and good for fuck all,  now, just like all of not very Great Britain, after brilliance of KneePads Party of cocksucker governments and fuckpig billionaire  cheeky bastard shopkeeper of M and fucking S and B and fucking Q - or leaders of business as they like to be called - grubby fucking shopkeeperbastards peddling tat and junk made in Chink sweatshop and rubbish is and wanting to dictate government policy, since when is fucking shopkeeping bastard political scientist,  all can do is pay minimum wage and flog off loads of rubbish, is worse than fucking Taliban these bastards, them  and thieving bastard banking cunt are all so fucking clever we don't even make  fucking cars any more, only fucking rubbish wooden ones - Morgan, they make a handful of cars and employ a handful of people, the UK car industry   - and only good for fucking Diarrhoea Balti, Birmingham  is, down Ladypool Road,  pissed up bloke and Chlamydia totty in bare leg and high heel  can eat as much rotten Halal  goat meat as possible for three quid at Formica table and never mind poor beast throat had cut in backyard and bled to death, screaming in shit and blood, for Allah,  the merciful   and bring in own bottle of Newcastle Brown can  from paki supermarket next door,  with rotten old tomatoes and fruit sitting in  shitty old crate on pavement with dogpiss and exhaust fumes, like real metropolitan sophisticate,  for washing- down purposes and enjoy eye-watering bout of le posterieur flambee next fucking morning as  burning hot,  high pressure torrent of liquidise goat and naan bread come shooting out from arse in every fucking direction and arsehole stings just  like was swarm of fucking wasp living up Jacksie and can't even hardly stand-up straight from toilet and stink would strip varnish off from front door of hi-rise council flat and called multiculturalism,  this fucking nonsense rubbish is, was dead ginger bastard Robin Cook who said Oh Aha, Fuck me, used to be could ask British person what was favourite dinner and roast fucking beef with pudding of Yorkshire would be answer, but now, aha, ahum, answer would be chicken tikka fucking masala and that goes to show how very far we have come as a nation under New Labour, going down Ladypool Road pissed up and scoffing condemned, unfit for human consumption  meat and arse-destroying spices, according to Cook, is equivalent of two-year tour of Indian sub-continent,  stupid ginger Jock bastard, as though eating shit curry same thing is as studying Paki history and writing and music, is not very much,  is true,  of history, because Paki country has only been here fifty fucking years or so and might not last another six fucking months and could disappear  and us too if Talimen cop hold of nuclear PakiBomb and have to get terminated with extreme and I mean fucking extreme prejudice, what with militantbastard and terroristbastard and  mullahbastard and insurgentbastard and bent governmentbastard  and Bhutto dynastybastard,  worse than house of fucking Windsor is and Prince of fucking Wales, not to mention applepie-eating, crewcut, granny-raping CIA murdering psychobastard gonzo and  embittered belligerent lesbian lunatic  Hillary Trousers flying all over the fucking place shouting at people as though it was the whole world what pissed on her wedding vows and not just Spunky Bill, the murdering, thieving, bullying, coke-snorting, whoremongering arsehole and soon to have heart failure, with any luck is. Fucking place could go up in garlic mushroom cloud any day.  And anyway Pakistani founder  bloke, Jinnah the Paki,  only set up muslim  country in first place because he and fellow head-chopping, women-stoning hysterical beardy  maniacs and worshippers of Allah the wise and merciful, peace and blessing be upon his name can't get on with neighbouring Sikh and Hindus all down together there, shitting in the Ganges and holy bathing all at the same time, with cow and buffalo wandering in and out from house and  shitting sacred shit on carpet  and  some bastards  so  poor are that unfuckingtouchable is. Unfuckingtouchable, worse than piece of shit. Who wants to multicultural, all men are pluralist brothers be,  with bastards like this, fucking savages, punch in fucking mouth should get and turban set on fire and never mind pushing-in to queue down at Post Office.  The very idea.  First thing should happen when Hindu or Sikh or Muslim bastard come in country, even if is Krishnan Guru O'Murphy, off C4 news with Jon Sox, or famous gobby cricketing bastard playboy, Imran Khan,  is give good swift punch in nose, not bit of slap, good proper thump, broken cartilage and hot blood choking in throat and seeing stars and told, we don't do that untouchable shit in this country, is fucking rubbish.  And we don't slaughter goats in the back yard, neither. And No, you can't burn your dead uncle's body on the municipal fucking bowling green, fuck off and I don't give a flying fuck what it says in the European Human Rights Act;  is that fucking clear?  And while is here, is no more mosque or fucking temple to go up, is plenty allfuckingready. Is fucking England here and not fucking Asia.  Understand?  Is fucking England, have come to fucking England and is Christian culture and architecture and not homeland of Ali Baba and Forty Fucking Thieves with minarets and flying fucking carpet and bullock shitting in the middle of the A45 and nobody can shoo the bastard away.  Fucking England is  - or Wales or Scotland, best part is of England -  no point is trying to make home from fucking home, better off is to stay at home and use Mosque already there. Or Temple. Can build Mosque, OK,  but has to be in line with local planning and look like decent proper Norman C-of-E church, with spire. And fucking clock. And graveyard.  And gay mullah living in loving partnership before God with young rentboy. Okay, fuck off, now,  and Hare Krishna.  Is in England now and best to behave is like decent English bloke and not elephant-riding Mahafuckingrajah, with slaves and concubines. And all this Mrs shit, her all wrapped up in head to fucking toe binbag  and walking four paces behind you down a Woverhampton street  with her eyes cast down in the gutter, like  repentant fucking sinner from Middle fucking Ages,  you can forget all that bollocks, Ahmed, me old son;  same with your daughters, you and your half-shaven fag sons try any of that honour killing nonsense and you'll get a good fucking kicking, you heathen fucking cocksucking bovverboys.   And if only some bastard had said this all along, in best proper polite English terms of course and maybe no effing and fucking blinding, or not so much, then proper understanding and mutual respect would have been develop. Instead, bent,  jumped-up councillors and stupid, gobby MPs have hung everybody out to dry in  deranged and chaotic equal opportunities climate, too timid, too cunning, maybe,  certainly too hungry for votes to tell our newcomers the score.

Anyway, Jinnah and Co said fuck all this superstitious shit, is only one god and Allah is his name and peace and blessings be on it and anybody disagree get  Fatwahed and beheaded on TV and we can't be doing with all these long beards and fucking turbans and mad sexual intercourse all day long,  all twisted-up like made of rubber was in Hindu book of Kama Sutra, filthy fucking bastard nignogs, we off out of it are, in new place and call it Pakistan, is long way of saying Paki.  And from there  we invade Birmingham. But if Paki bloke cannot get on with Sikh and Hindu what fucking chance is with Godless, heathen bastard Aston Villa-worshipping Brummie nutcase? Is not integrate, anyway, no matter what City fathers say, no matter what Baron Hatterjee of Sparkbrook says, horrible spit-spraying old bugger,  is just ghetto of Labour-voting shopkeeper and cash 'n'carry wallah. Or disgusting banana  republic, as High Court Judge, Mr Justice Knobrot QC, said, a few years back. 

Is hardly no bastard in work anymore here in Brum apart from probation oficer and outreach worker and fucking imbeciles in Selly Oak Job Centre or Restart. Anybody hear this cunt of a man, manager of Selly Oak Pisshole Job Centre on skymadeupnewsandfilth's Radio Four Programme?  Radio Four does worthy and concerned  programme, all  shit fucking rubbish  with no advert or jingle like decent station and daytime or early evening is like wander into world of phony, thoughtful, sanctimonious  caring, is fucking endless, Woman Hour with wretched old fucking boot, Jenny Murray and  Pee Em with Eddie Smug and WATO with Martha Kearney and MoneyBox and some tight-fisted, mean as fucking dirt busybody  old fucking bastard from Hemel fucking Hempstead or Tunbridge fucking Well  phone-in, whining and  screeching, Can get extra farthing per month on pension, please? miserable, grumbling skinflint old  codgers and fucking tied-up and tortured should be in own home by Hoodies and set on fucking fire or  else is, Hello...Hello..can you hear me ...I want to give money to poisonous fucking bastard grandchildren to help them through Uni - Uni is what used to be called college of fucking cooking and hairdressing and watching telly studies and is run on cheap by local council with wanker lecturers who can't write a fucking sentence in decent fucking  English and need themselves Educayshun, Educayshun, Educayshun - and fund their fucking Gap year, obnoxious, smirking little consumerist pricks, and what best way is to pay no fucking tax? Oh, fuck me, thanks for your call, Margaret,  there, in Saffron fucking Walden and I am joined in the studio by an accountant, another accountant and another accountant, none of which fuckwits saw the credit crunch coming until it had wiped out all their clients' monies  but they'll be able to advise you, because they are the experts.......Anyway was programme on about Selly Oak Job Centre and was interviewing clients - ie deadbeat bums on fucking dole,  most of West Birmingham - and everybody says is all shit, no courses, no advice, no funds, get treated fucking worse than  whore at hockey match, come in the door and get fucking ignored by staff and eventually told is that  nothing fucking doing is and that all the jobs on the board are all made fucking up, honest and not invent, all made up, no point applying is because what happens is Ree-surcher from Job Centre telephones employer and says Any Job Going ? And employer says No, fuck off, be down there meself, soon, in fucking Job Centre. But might be jobs, one day?  Well, might be. Can put you down for twenty, then? Do what the fuck you want. Okay, then, forty. And soon all the boards and computer screen is fill-up with jobs which aren't, but might be. And government lying bastard minister for benefits can say, Oi, citizens, look,  here is million or two of jobs unfilled, better get off down Job Centre of Shit and get one, even if is all imaginary, imaginary job is better than no job, innit, and better watch out or will imaginary benefits be collecting.  Interviewer says to Job Centre Manager, Wossallthisshit, then, made-up jobs?  No, is straight up, meet all criteria of Department of Work and No-Pension, which is main thing, otherwise I get the sack and is coming in here myself and applying for jobs which figment  of statistical imagination are, and not really there at all. No, no,  no, is plenty of courses, paint and decorate and cv writing, to name but all of them...But Mr Smith says your staff told him no course was and to fuck off and get course from private firm...No, no, no, I do assure you he is wrong.....Is not fucking wrong, is fucking outside, Mr Smith,  go and fucking ask him, has sorted out course for himself which you useless fucking bastards should have sorted out.  Have spoke to dozens of fucking people and all the courses which they should be able to get for retraining for new fucking jobs in the new fucking economy of the fucking future and which Gordon fucking Brown and Ed fucking Balls are always going on about, and that useless  walking disease, Lord Nothing-Wrong-With-My-Arse Was -Just -Routine- Emergency-Arsectomy Requiring-Few-Day-In-Royal-Hospital-For-Officer-And-Poof, well, your staff have never fucking heard of them.  No, no, no,  I assure you and your smugbastard RadioFour listeners that this will be just a question of minor adjustments as the new programmes are rolled out across the country. And can't fucking obviously, comment on individual case, So there. Bollocks. Restart, down SellyOak Job Centre of Shit is,  like every other fucking thing, whatever we say it is.

Birmingham economy is fucked,  manufacturing is destroyed  by people who lied and stole and killed and cheated and blackmailed and now can only mouth jargon and fucking slogan about imaginary new economy, imaginary jobs and imaginary prosperity, thieves and jackals, good for fuck all and up against wall should go. Steven Byers gave Longbridge and its traditions away to thieving bastards, beyond the law or morality's reach, its workforce now at the mercy of government initiatives at Selly Oak Job Centre of Shit is. And if any justice was Byers and Hoon and the rest would be in custody remanded at Winson Green and no fucking bail, pending trial for deception and theft and good kicking having off thin blue line of lazy fat screws. Only trouble is skymadeupnewsandfilth quickly hoovered-up mess of ExpensesCrime and MortgageCrime and WarCrime and JunketCrime and EarthCrime and most especially, in Scotland, best part of England, of massive NonceCrime. And business back to as usual is. 

George Cadbury great Edwardian philanthrowotsit was, here in Birmigham and made ethical business, sort of, was better, anyway, than nasty fucking leprechaun,  Willy O'Walsh,  does at BA and now is sold off to GlobaCorp, just for fucking money, as though money was real, like people and soon Cadbury chocolate outsource will be in New fucking Delhi, with cow and buffalo wandering around production line.  End of road   for Workshop of Empire and just instead cheap corner shop will be and sharp-faced, ferrety Brummy  a citizen of depressed EuroRegion become. Like Albanian.

And testament will stand, Birmingham,  to growing our economy of goodforfuckall service industry, of worthless lying bastard financial adviser, of light regulatory touch. And culture will be of screaming  fag hairfuckingdresser  and Cruelty TV  and celebrity slapper with big plastic tits;  toolsetter and capstan operator, like  miner and steelworker and shipbuilder,  out on street with outlaw junky angel and prostitute will be, in Ruin.

So,  Asian vote will stay largely with SnotParty and so will probation officer, teacher, gay and bisexual community relations officers. And nurse and social worker. Blue collar bloke, still wiping off Byers' shit from face, will not vote Snot but will not vote Sam and Dave, either and  unlikely is to vote ShitEaters4HomeSeckatry. (Note off editor for overseas readers. In run-up, as we say, to last UK election, LibDem shadow Home Seck discovered was to be  dirty bastard coprophiliac, in house of commons was saying You watch me, voters, when I am Home Seck, which, actually speaking will be never, I tough am going to get with prostitution and stuff like that,  But and is big fucking but,  huge fucking but,  same bloke, Mark Eaton, MP, was doing unmentionable shit with rentboy, unfuckingmentionable, in fact, in United State of Obama, would have Hizonner Judge Hymie Goldblum yelling Yes, you can't,  you miserable sonofafuckingbitch and probably go in Old Sparky and get fried-up with eyes popping out and dangling down cheek and veins bursting and cock shooting sparks out from end, like Mount Vesuvius and crowd of Anafuckingbaptist witnesses in Sunday suit singing We Shall Overcome But You Sure as Hell Won't, Motherfucker,   if caught is doing this shit . 

Was German sort of perrversion.  Everybody know that Herman the German is filthy fucking bastard and poking about in shit is every morning with Mrs and Jah,  Liebschen-ing is, dis poo is sehr gut, Liebschen,  is firm and gut colour and smell fresh and happy und look, Lieschen,   mein own poo is wunderbar, is neine  blood and full of seeds is so mein bowel is gut und cleansed, scrape clean with seeds from gut German wholemeal bread. Could probably, Liebschen,  pull rectum inside-out and eat dinner off. Come Liebschen, let's sit down together, holding hands  on our side-by-side Herr und Frau toilet bowls and do our liddle, healthy poos together, Jah? Heil Hitler.

Is famous for being romantic like that, German bloke. Only not with Jew. Or gipsy. Or poof. Well, Eaton bloke was worse than this, was worse than Herman the German. After day in Snot parliament, passing laws,  would go in rentboy flat, take off MP suit and lie under glass coffee table and rentboy poo would do on tabletop only tabletop not there was and, well, is fucking decent family blog here and not go no further but Fuck me, Jesus, what sort of people can be who would   have shit-eating freak in front of front fucking bench ? Here is our shadow Home Seckatry. And in his spare time, he eats shit, yes, that's right he eats shit, not his own mind, no, that would be disgusting,  he pays other people to shit on him and eats it. Is fucking  having fucking laugh, innit, with voter. ShitEaters might win in Solihull, which is very posh part of Birmingham and so full of poof and freak is but out of work car and chocolate egg maker will not vote for ShitEaters.)

Is some racial tension, growing unemployment and Austerity Years of National Recovery from the Bankers' Depredations are coming for all. Never mind, always is internet porn and daytime telly and burglary to fall back on. 

.......................................

No space today for foreign policy analysis - but really, is Starmer going to declare war on the United States? Really? Gosh.

.....................................

There are four splendid anthologies of the writings of stanislav and mr ishmael, compiled by his friend, mr verge, the house filthster. You can buy them from Amazon or Lulu. Here's how:

Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.

IIshmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps 

please register an account first, at lulu.com. This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box. Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.

Link for Hardcover : https://tinyurl.com/je7nddfr

Link for Paperback : https://tinyurl.com/3jurrzux

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

At checkout, try WELCOME15 in the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before postage. If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.

With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.

We've had a bit of snow.

The Sunday Ishmael: 11/01/2026: The Grey War

 The algorithm must have been hallucinating if it thought I was a likely purchaser of a £400-£600 handbag. But, there you go, everywhere I went on Youtube I was stalked by this advert for the Coach Tabby bag. Have you seen it? The story goes: skinny white woman, looking miserable, stares at her phone, when a nasty little girl bounds in, steals her handbag and runs away. Hotly pursued by Elle Fanning, playing skinny white woman, the feral child climbs up a big tree and chucks the bag into the air.

I got so fed up by this relentless pursuit by a handbag advert that I looked it up to discover what the hell it was attempting to say. Was it extolling the merits of theft as a career choice? Or the benefits of climbing trees as outdoor exercise? Or extolling the rejection of consumerisme totalitairienne by chucking away overpriced bits of tat now that the world is going to hell in a handcart?  

But, no. The Coach campaign release explained itself thusly: the whole campaign is about:  Authenticity. Fearlessness. Rediscovering childhood courage.  Letting go of self‑doubt.

Really? Really.

Coach describes it as tapping into “the courage we all once had, before the world told us to play small”.

For fuck's sake: this advert wants me to believe that a handbag is a spiritual awakening. As Lady Bracknell would respond, in tones of frosty hauteur, “To lose one handbag, Miss Fanning, may be regarded as a misfortune; to throw it into a tree looks like carelessness.”

It has been tough, here, in the far north. Oh yes, we've had the seasonal delights of the Christmas and New Year's Day Ba' games

 (the Uppies won this year), the Stromness Log Pull, when the men of the town form themselves into two teams, attach ropes to what looks like a felled telegraph pole, and pull, the Log swinging perilously between them to the imminent danger of the cheering crowd,

  

(The Northenders won), and, of course, the Illuminated Tractor Run

(nobody won. It wasn't a race. It was just for looking at.) And don't forget the MidWinter Solstice at Maeshowe, with the Frog-Balancing Vikings.
But all that joyful hedonism was followed by a cold snap, with snow, ice and high seas. The ferries were cancelled. Tesco ran out of bananas. I discovered that my beautiful, luxurious beast of a Mercedes-Benz is absolutely crap in the snow. It has an annoying trick of announcing an error message and shutting off power to the

wheels. "Skidding," it says. "Skidding. That's it. I'm not going any further. I shall stay just where I am." The first time it did it I was rescued by two women, who ran back and forth to a nearby Grit bin with handfuls of grit to scatter under the Beast's wheels. The second time it graciously accepted the libation of 1.5 kg of cooking salt and consented to move out of the middle of the road, where it had come to a sulky stop, blocking the carriage way. Good thing there weren't any ICE agents around.  I've not been out since.

Here's a money-saving tip for glossy monthly-magazine lovers. You know the sort of thing: Period Living, Homes and Gardens, Yorkshire Life. At a fiver a copy, that's 60 quid a year. Don't throw them away. Place them in a pile upside down in a corner of your ensuite. On January 1st, turn the pile over and start again. You'll have forgotten the content, and can be delighted by the seasonally-appropriate photographs, carefully curated and exquisite home decor from Reader's Lives and astonishingly-wonderful recipes. I brined the turkey this Christmas, guided by Country Living. Brining has been a thing this year.

The January editions, which are usually written in August, hit the retailers around early December and have little homilies about This Time of Year - reflecting on the year past, valuing friends and family, catching up on old colleagues and acquaintances. So it was when I met a former colleague, now retired, up the town. We leant on the Ba' board designed to protect the premises behind us from Christmas jollity. 

He started. "You remember old Thorfinn?"

Me: Oh yes. Thorf. Such a sweet chap. What's he doing these days?

He: Dead. Very sudden. 

My turn: Do you know what happened to Lilli Whyt-Arse?

He: Of the extensive and influential Whyt-Arse family. Most women wouldn't have survived that mooning scandal, and granted, she had to leave Orkney, but she did very well south. Why?

Me: Sacked.

He: Really?

Me: Well, the press release said that she had ceded her contract after mutual agreement, but we know what that means.

He: Young Erlend, now, he's retired.

Me: Ill health?

He: Bad Back, Bad shoulders, Heart, Hips.

Me: Always was a hypochondriac.

He: I saw someone in the supermarket who knew me.

Me: Who?

He: I've forgotten his name. But he knew me. We chatted about 20 minutes.

Me: Where did you know him from?

He: I dinna ken. But he knew me alright.

Me: Whatever happened to Wee Fat Alistair?

He: It was said he had retired voluntarily because he didn't care for the rarefied air.

Me: But?

He: Well, I met his wife at a do, the noo, and she said that after a lifetime struggling up the greasy pole, he'd been pushed aff it.

Me: That sounds a bit incriminating. And unwifely.

Together: Sacked.

He: Then there's Ross Islander. Was my boss at one time. You remember him? Always interfering.

Me: Go on.

He: Dead.

Dead, Sacked, Retired, Forgotten, Sacked, Died

Me: Look, if anyone asks you whatever happened to mrs ishmael, just tell them I'm fine. Just fine. 

The Grey War. 

That's what they are calling it now. Not War War. Not Cold War. I've been banging on about this since you've known me - the High North - that's where the frightening action is. It's all a question of perspective. For those accustomed to the Mercator projection, especially maps centred on Britain,

Russia and America both seem comfortingly far away. This is a trick of the map maker's art, how they manage to render the features of a globe onto a flat sheet of paper. For those who are familiar with this depiction, than President Trump's ambitions regarding Greenland, and, indeed, Canada, seem like the ravings of a megalomaniac psychopath. Check out your globe - there used to be one in every educated person's home - or this: 

As Lord Mandelson informed the nation today on the Laura Kuenssberg Show, Trump is not going to invade Greenland. That is Trumpian hyperbole and exaggeration. He is drawing NATO's attention to the real and present danger we are in - he is expecting NATO nations to step up their defence spending, increase the size of their armed forces and stop expecting America to do all the heavy lifting. Greenland is strategically important in the Grey War against Russia and China, in that part of the globe where these nations are practically touching each other.

Look at it this way -

Makes perfect sense, if we can only shake out of our heads the idea that Britain is significant, important or the king-pin in an empire. And if NATO and Denmark refuse to take arms against this sea of troubles, then Trump will exercise his strength, diplomacy and deal making to secure his borders. 

The U.K. or Little Satan, as the Iranian theocracy dubbed us,  has strategic importance. It seems we helped with the seizure of the Venezuelan-linked oil tanker, the Marinera, on Wednesday, as it travelled northwards through waters between Iceland and Scotland, following a chase by the US Coast Guard. RAF surveillance aircraft and a Royal Navy Support ship, the RFA Tideforce, took part in the operation.  US aircraft used Wick John O'Groats Airport during the apprehension of the Marinera. At least three US Air Force planes took off from RAF Mildenhall and landed at Wick John O'Groats Airport, which is owned by the Scottish Government. Wick airport, by the way, is a tiny little place, with one runway.

Would someone tell our Prime Minister that he really must stop pissing about like this -

(look at the boys, holding hands and grinning like monkeys), and grow up? We never should have involved ourselves in the border dispute between Russia and Ukraine - the public were spun and spun into supporting the Dwarf Zelensky, because, I suspect, Boris Johnson fancied following in Thatcher's footsteps and having his own war to secure his place in the history books. We are stuck with that appalling decision, stuck with having alienated Putin, and it is, as they say, what it is. But Starmer should be rowing back and certainly not promising to send our armed forces into Ukraine. Is he wanting to kill me? A coalition of France and Britain - who, pray, is that going to inconvenience? Just sheer provocation waved in the face of one of the most powerful men on the planet. He really needs to cosy up to the other powerful man, apologise and say: "Sorry, Mr President, sir, it was a mild French infatuation I caught. I'm over it now. And I'm sorry I recognised Palestine. That was all Emmanuel's fault, too. I was mistaken. Turns out his wife isn't a man."

And as for saying he is going to send troops into Greenland to thwart Trump - can someone section the man?

.............................

There are four splendid anthologies of the writings of stanislav and mr ishmael, compiled by his friend, mr verge, the house filthster. You can buy them from Amazon or Lulu. Here's how:

Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.

IIshmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps 

please register an account first, at lulu.com. This is advisable because otherwise paypal seems to think it's ok to charge in dollars, and they then apply their own conversion rate, which might put the price up slightly for a UK buyer. Once the new account is set up, follow one of the links below (to either paperback or hardback) or type "Ishmael’s Blues" into the Lulu Bookstore search box. Click on the “show explicit content” tab, give the age verification box a date of birth such as 1 January 1960, and proceed.

Link for Hardcover : https://tinyurl.com/je7nddfr

Link for Paperback : https://tinyurl.com/3jurrzux

https://www.lulu.com/shop/ishmael-smith/flush-test/paperback/product-9yjvn7.html?q=Flush+Test&page=1&pageSize=4

At checkout, try WELCOME15 in the coupon box, which (for the moment) takes 15% off the price before postage. If this code has expired by the time you reach this point, try a google search for "Lulu.com voucher code" and see what comes up.

With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.

Oh yes, Jury Trials. I remember them.