Ben-dog wasn’t Brexit related

Poor Ben-dog has passed! Finally things came to a head, his behaviour was out of sorts, he could barely get down the steps, and we took the decision to call it. The right decision, absolutely right, so we tell ourselves, we have to tell ourselves, because … it’s tough as Hell.
The last morning, just waiting for the vets to do a home visit, looking for an excuse to have a last walk with him, for him to have a wee, but he couldn’t be bothered, “ah well, nothing that can’t wait,” I said as if to fool him. So we’re all just sitting around, wondering what to do, pacing, even. Then they came, two nice young women. He panicked a bit when they shaved one forearm to put in the IV, but then we had a final couple of minutes, them outside, then I got them back in and they loaded up the three surprisingly large syringes. So so quickly he lapsed into unconsciousness, so floppy, then only a couple of minutes if that and the vet put the steth to this chest, then said quietly, “he’s gone”.

The grief come in waves. D started writing a little book of memories, him in the corner of the room, lying in state, both of us expecting him to wake from his slumber. Next morning we were surprised by how much, how rapidly he’d bloated, which hastened our timing to leave for Cumbria, D having found a lovely place (recommended by the original crem but who couldn’t fit us in til Monday, which with hindsight might have been precarious considering how airship-like Ben was getting, and to be honest, pongy), but it was a fine drive to the Lakes and this very nice crematorium, Paws at Rest, with Paws at Splash hydrotherapy, a memory garden and other things as well, set a few miles from Penrith, and a canny lady running it. She asked if we wanted a tuft of Ben’s fur, we said it didn’t really do it for us and we’d rather he was intact, she agreed and told us of a former customer who’d wanted her to shave the whole dog for the fur to go into a cushion, nail clipping, everything, really OTT, and she’d refused. What else, boil it down to make soap?

In Penrith we found a very nice chip shop and a cafe called Daffodil, which was dog-friendly for Ringo, bunting and scones, but it’s a big village really, not quite the ‘city’ crem-woman termed it. Then we got Ben back in a little pewter pot and brought him home. Little darling.

“We’ve come on holiday by mistake!”. Of course we had to watch Withnail and I in the evening.

That was Friday and Saturday.

Maybe I’m repeating myself but we’ve had Rees Mogg saying concentration camps weren’t that bad, the number who died in them in the Boer War was the same death rate as Glasgow at the time, and it was war, and they were there for their protection, and we shouldn’t look at the past through the lens of the present. Holy fucking Christ. Over 25,000 women and children died in those British-run camps, which started as refugee camps but went on quickly to become hostage camps for the families of Boers, the families ethnically cealned off the land by a scorched-earth policy and imprisoned in camps run by the British where they died by the tens of thousands over years due to murderous neglect if not murder (getting shortened rations if their men were still fighting). It was and remains a crime against humanity. But don’t expect the lead MP of the ERG to appreciate that.

Ford has said it’s preparing to move. Honda’s threatening to leave Swindon and lose 3,500 jobs, although Brexiters claim this is to do with diesel regs and not to do with car makers continued declarations of concern about Brexit, no-deal Brexit, uncertainties, dealing with a government of maniacs, grave doubts expressed by Japan more than once, that we’ve also blown them off over a trade deal because Fox told them to hurry up (along with sending warships to the Pacific to bash China also seeing talks with them binned – and JRM having said Japan’s warnings about this were rich coming from a country that had recommenced whaling – dude WTF), and the EU-Japan FTA basically making it clear that, well, shit, if the UK is prepared to flip off all warnings, to compromise JIT production, to leave that massive same market we built our UK factories to supply, then … fuck ’em, we’ll build them at home.


A lot of talk of JCB, Bombardier, investing in Derby. I heard of so many firms around Darlington where everything’s on hold. … flybmi have gone under, blaming Brexit. They may have had a dodgy over-priced business model compared with Ryanair, say, but …

Someone on Twitter called me a ‘soy boy’ which apparently means I am effeminate because I don’t drink real milk but oestrogen-full crap soy milk, I am girly, without balls, etc. This was on a UKIP feed and is apparently a pet expression of the alt-right, which is useful as it duly identified my co-respondent as far-right. A Nazi bot at best.

The ‘gang of seven’ have left the Labour party, and this has caused a flap among campaigners, some saying a PV is now doomed, others that Corbyn had it coming, others saying whatever our differences we cannot forget we’re united in one task … but the timing’s very off, not least as we’ve got six weeks until Brexit so what they’re hoping to achieve by then is anyone’s guess, they don’t even have a party. Also today was released the report into Facebook’s dastardly dealings, its corrupted practices and involvement in election meddling with Cambridge Analytica.



And yet for all that, the referendum still stands. Holy fucking hell. What kind of heist is this?

And! I called Peter Shilton an old fool, and someone pretending to know him challenged me to take him on. This is Brexit, present facts to the Leavers and they get violent:



An increasingly common sentiment:

This view has been around all the while:


Then there’s real threats:






Little to report

… right, well something’s obviously brewing. Tittle tattle of May quitting soon, Corbyn being overthrown, an extension to Art 50. Mnyah!

Not like we weren’t warned:

Meanwhile the Telegraph cites a discredited ‘expert’, a foreigner, a Remainer member of the Establishment elite, as now being able to see into the future  because that future’s a rosy Brexit one – although he doesn’t say that, really.

Fucking load of shit.

More importantly, Ben-dog’s booked for the off on Friday. Told C, she’s very sad, but it’s really his time. Talking with the missus on the way back from her office, Ben-dog’s going to be cremated in Cumbria, which makes sense because that’s where he’s from, and we laughed at my previous vision of setting him afar aboard a long boat and pushing him out into a lake, the flames lighting a 1,000 pairs of caramel brown eyes all around the lake, eyes like candlearbra, of his brethren who’ve crosses the peaks and valleys to see their brother’s spirit return and who upon the quenching of the flames shall let up a long, slow howl into the starry sky.

The trouble was, having reminded myself of this, I found it horribly poignant.

Ringo meanwhile is turning into a gourmet, or a very fussy eater, a pain as Brexit looms especially if he can’t eat so much of what we’ve got for him. He looks at me and I look at him and it’s like refugees having spent and given away their all to get out the country and they’re at the border, only to find the child’s eaten his passport out of mindless hunger, and they can’t leave … he’ll be very sad to see Ben-dog go. But the catalyst was really the right one, he’s so decrepit, and yesterday found his way upstairs and shat and pissed all over the bedroom, then lay in it, which is deranged really. We wondered if he’d be doing the same today as a prank for us to come back to, while Ringo despairs, having shouted up the stairs, ‘Grandad, what are you doing up there?! Come down, you shouldn’t be up there,’ only to realise that Ben was up to some bizarre dirty protest, ‘no no Grandad stay up there!’ but too late, Ben was coming down to stink out downstairs too.

We are in the last two days of Ben’s life. How strange, how cold it feels right now. I know it’ll hit at some silly inopportune time probably when I’m out in public, that’s how these things work.


Nice summary.

Other news, Farage has set up some new Brexit party, he obviously thinks we’re going to be in the EU long enough to need MEPs to send there. Arsehole. Not news really, just catching up.

Otherwise a lovely day with the other actors, Wayne agreed, ‘it’s not just me’, … but the real big news is Ben-dog has kind of had enough. This Friday it’ll be all over. He’s so old and doddery and made such a mess all over the house, ach, it’s too much, it’s really come to time. Poor lad, but he’s had a very good life absolutely full of love by the missus. C said she was heartbroken, and is coming to see him before he goes. Kind of a relief in that it’s before anything really kicks off, as well, and he’ll not be around for the chaos and carnage.

Has Farage bitten off more than he’s realised? If he’s really in hock to the Russians. Say Brexit comes off, he’s served his purpose for them, his jabbermouthing bragging, cowardliness, he could too easily spill the beans either out of conceitedness – or if Mueller’s net tightens, out of fear. He’s also a proven turncoat. For sure, no-one can trust him, and one this salesman’s done the job – or not! There’ll be payback for that – then he can be disposed of, in a way that’ll look like a Remainer did and max out the destabilisation of the UK as the leading far-right demagogue is done in.

Or is he simply the salesman, wants his 1%? Actually the real power brokers are esconsed elsewhere, others with real power? See the whole gamut of powerful bastards behind this, it’s too easy to get intoxicated, to get swept up in the man’s own demagogury.

James Patrick has a piece from ZDnet about Russia planning to go offline in coming weeks, which they say is an experiment or test, but really you’d do if you launch an online DoS attack (however vast that turns out to be) from outside the country, and go offline as plausible deniability, prevent any blowback or retaliation. The theory is of course immediate post-Brexit Britain will be the target. I’ve said this, if I say so myself. Russia’s got previous as well for DoS, they took down Estonia only a few years ago.

The Moscow apartment bombings, Chechnya, the poisoning of the Ukrainian presidential hopeful, Georgia, DoS on Estonia, Trump, bots in the referendum, regular meddling with gas supplies, the war on Ukraine (much due to Ukraine looking west, considering NATO, considering joining the EU), Syria, Politakovskaya, Novichok. Putin, who’s also eliminated, outlawed or just sidelined his opponents, whether he’s president, PM or president … he’s the full Russian Monty. To think he wouldn’t be involved in taking down the UK and torpedoing the EU, which also assaulted Cypriot banks holding Oligarch funds, it’s difficult to imagine otherwise.

The Russians are mafia. Trump is mafia.

A friend posted: Well, in the Cold Feet ad break I checked twitter and saw reports that the government is stockpiling body bags and bringing in a law about not eating your pets.

Who knows what to believe? The world is mad.

Yep. It was a nice day otherwise. Uneventful. Except the defence secretary buildign on previous comments of building new military bases worldwide and using hard power to take on Russia and China. Shouldn’t we sign trade deals with these people first?

World’s End

An exercise in heroic futility? … maybe, maybe not. But we can say we tried, and we came to listen where others from far away only saw to lie to, to rob, to con. They can’t be allowed to get away with this.

The missus is tired, too. Just wants B-Day to come upon us so it’s over and we know what we’re looking at. I agree. Dread it though I do, vying with a weird fascination for what’ll happen.

Revoking Art 50 would be the best but the least likely. A People’s Vote is risky. The big risk is the sleeper of the rage (not so much a sleeper I suspect either), the betrayal, the stab in the back myth that’s already being peddled by the right-wing should Brexit be delayed, cancelled, voted down somehow. That’ll come back to haunt us while the far-right continue to make great inroads on the ground. We have years of this.

There is still Ireland to escape to. A friend in Berlin said I could still just make it there in time before B-Day but I think that ship’s sailed. And I’m with the missus, loyalty to her and the country and the friends I’ve made supercedes that.

Still, it was a beautiful day.

Here we are standing, on the edge of the world.


PS: Today was beautiful, too. Might I add there are rumours May is asking for more time and Farage is setting up a new Brexit party for any European elections. Big hints then we may have a few more weeks or months to reenergise ourselves for something, but what?


Not even 10am on Sunday.


Turning Point’s Candace talked of the worryingly low birth rate in the Uk.
Meanwhile fellow far-right govt Hungary is announcing plans to address its falling birth-rate, the BBC reported this morning (I now view the radio, dominated by the BBC as it is, as a hostile entity). This has been an issue for a while (check the source):

Are we talking about baby farms here?

Combine it with the thread yesterday on Grimes’ about people’s views on genes. If these ‘people’ were even just bots and trolls then they’re laying the groundwork for others to follow.

Eug 1Eug 2Eug 3eugenics

Grimes – when not doorstepping his nana to back up his lies, he’s telling of the joys of a trip to the utopia that is Israel. WTF is utopian about an apartheid state? Which it is, and there’s nothing in the Torah about that, so stick that up your arse with barbed wire.

‘Appease’, ‘Tusk is descended from Nazis’, just like the ‘betrayal of democracy’ myth that’s going around, the ‘stab in the back’ shit that did so much to work up the disaffected in Germany after WWI, as well that ‘that treaty’ (replace Versailles with Lisbon) … that lay festering ’til the Crash.

Who is this fine young man with his distinctive haircut, off-the-rack suit and deep leather armchair? Is he anything to do with Turning Point?


On another tack I emailed the RAC about their hosting of Turning Point UK, they denied it, sayign there was no such booking, but it was there for sure, just not under the TP name. !! What did the missus say about a young man choosing to intern in the University press team and being the most obnoxious Tory twat, then appearing on TV months later complaining about on-campus ‘suppression’ of his views. Was he a TP advance guard?

News +++ news +++ news +++ bollocks. Doesn’t seem that Tommy Robinson was outside court prejudicing the case with his contempt of court bollocks, luckily. Was this because the sex offender on trial was white, so there was no racist capital to be earned off protesting this case?

What else? Oh yeah, I went and did some leafletting in Mount Pleasant, where I was going to go yesterday but Sat-nav sent me 10 miles the wrong way and I was so jacked on coffee I couldn’t be fucked at all. So did it today, done a couple of hundred leaflets I think, two halves, one very long terrace tracing the river, then over to brand new cul-de-sac Hell, notable for many plastic Tudor houses having double garages but still three cars on the drive. Anyway, all passed peaceably except one fat bastard who came out and with theatrical aplomb ripped up the leaflet and put it in the recycling. I was surprised he didn’t go the whole hog and throw it up like confetti, wipe his hands, push his glasses up his nose and stamp a foot. Anyway obviously I pissed him off so that was a bonus.

Pissed off some losers on the Leave Means Leave page as well, a half-dozen OAPs were forced out onto the icey cobbles to peddle Lies Mean Lies used toiler tissue of lies in Hexham and this elicited lots of praise from their Nazi-bots overlords in Moscow. They’re nasty as they very quickly go ad hominem as in trawl through your profile and pictures. I had this the other day, someone said you failed as a freelance writer, which isn’t on my profile (the job, not the failing!) so they obviously Googled me, while two on today’s adventure immediately said “oo you’re into Rolf Harris”, and one added I was “into Hitler” as well. Here are the pictures at issue, which are really quite self-explanatory, the Hitler one being I’d have thought obvious even for a Leaver, all they had to do was read nine words. Oh shit hang on …

As well as watching an ageing fool have a fit, I saw a car on a drive with a magnificent cock drawn in the dirt up its side, I wanted to take a photo but thought that’d be a bit difficult to explain if they saw me. Later in Blaydon I saw a man so fat his T-shirt and jumper couldn’t stretch over his belly, so it was exposed underneath, rendering his top clothing more like an awning.

A fellow activist told of how y’day a man had said he was desperate to get out the EU so we could get rid of all “the black and Pakis”. It was picked up by at least one that neither Pakistan nor any African countries are in the EU, a point that’s somewhere in the realm of inappropriate quibbling as the real point is this man’s bigotry (yes, yes, we know), to which said activist said she told him simply, “fuck off”. Great. This is what we need. I wonder if as well, with D’s blowup yesterday, we’re all not just a little tired – no, reenergised, a sense of we’ve nothing to lose, and actually, fuck these people.

So thinks the rest of the planet, BTW.

And really, fuck these people – lolcano.

This is actually the perfect metaphor for Brexit.
They thought they were different, they thought they were special, they thought the rules didn’t apply to them, that they were above it all, that they could both walk away from everything and stick their fingers up to everyone and yet have it all, and on that basis alone, with not a jot of consideration given to anyone else, to reality at all, they opted to blow themselves up and everything they’ve worked for. Oh dear how sad never mind when they find out …



Three days

As the days count down, days counted down by both UKIP and CNN …

Thursday: We met in the backroom, the dingy wedge-shaped room of the Central bar in Gateshead. Really quite atmospheric, all the conspirators, local groups represented, about eight of us.

What I couldn’t get past and ended up staring at the floor about is the sense of denial. They were saying ideas would have to go to committee in a couple of weeks, and we should all meet up again in three weeks, four weeks. Was it tacit to the entire chat that something will stop us leaving on March 29? And though I could and maybe should have brought it up, what then?

I had one of those horrible jolted-from-a-doze moments, seeing the EU flag lowered from Lambeth Council building for the last time. Weird, it’s only a flag, I was a euro-skeptic, I never thought it mattered, but that’s so much the problem with the EU, it’s never done what it should to promote itself, we know the ludicrous depth and scale of the lies of the right-wing MSM, but the EU never somehow defended itself. If you’re a paper that’s bent on selling lies instead of truth-based news then you don’t print retractions or rebuttals, even so, though.

The My EU page, when was that set up? Are we all genned up on it when we do the stalls? Local knowledge. It’s really wound me up that for all the good the EU has done (redistributing our own money? Only in part, and towards ends that Westminster simply has not nor will ever pursue) …

The publicising of the Brexitometer page, abject failure to do that.

‘”Take Back Control”, we need something like that.’ You needed it three years ago, even though it’s now come to light due to a TV prog a month ago, we’re talking about it now?

Of use: use a baking spoon to push leaflets through doors. Shit, it says so much.

The great lament was the abject lack of leadership. As Tusk put it himself, ‘at the moment, with May and Corbyn, there’s no chance of the UK staying in the EU, and Remain has no leader’. Has never had a leader. People’s Vote has been something of an umbrella organisation, but actually not really. Conservatives for Europe, where are they? The remainer MPs in Labour, where are they?

Friday: I was called by a campaigner in the West Midlands, and we agreed on a great deal, which was inevitable, it was a relay in ranting really that nonetheless went on for about 50 minutes. Again, lamented the lack of leadership. He was a UKipper turned Lib Dem – they’re all Lib Dems – and said he’d heard a certain big gun was considering contending the party leadership. … yes, but … when? Now? When’s it going to make a difference? When the fuck when? We agreed and ranted and agreed and ranted and came away in agreement and having ranted for 50 minutes. He didn’t even know about the Brexiometer. Said the lack of any centralisation was appalling, and that we absolutely had to get on the social media war like Leave had done, that was entirely where it was won and was still being won, hands down. But who’s going to coordinate this, pay for this, direct this, and by when?

Saturday: Over to Wallsend, a sense of dread, two hours in the bright, sunny, blustery shoppping plaza outside the Betfred, the Brexitometer taped to two 80s’ BT phone boxes. We were half a dozen in number, D, James, Guiseppe, who had a letter in the S’land Echo, me, a Lib Dem councillor (they’re all Lib Dems).

I chatted with a couple of good people, a Welshman who talked of how the Tories wiped out south Wales industries, while there was a major bypass built that ultimately cleared traffic and saved a lot of lives, with money from Europe. But the liars in London had won the day and

The first lady to come along said she’d voted Leave but bitterly regretted it, her family had all voted Remain. This woman profited nothing from this, she can’t even remember why she voted Leave, but it would been for good reason somewhere because you could tell she was a decent person, now she’s got this guilt to carry for ever for her decision thanks to the astounding lie of bastards in London, hundreds of miles away, who never in generations gave a damn about this woman, her life, her welfare, or anything, they swindled her vote and left her with remorse.

A little old man came out of the Betfred, 75 he was, talked of all the industries in the area that’d gone, the mines, the steelworks, the shipyards. Said there was still a lot of work around, he knew of a very good local forging works where they had eight Polish welders, all very good mind, but there were no jobs for local lads, simple as that. In many cases this is true, there are jobs but non-locals take them as they already have the skills and there are no apprenticeships. This is a sticking point … then he went over to the pub. A nice Saturday really. Interesting pub, the ground floor was a modern classical hybrid, the top was just a concrete blob. The kind of sharp contrast seen in North Korean state buildings.

David got into a discussion with a well-built lad in a tight white top, ‘we had a vote! Ignoring that is fascism!’ which fired David up and he came back in kind, the white-top stalking away, whirling around, David on him each step, til white-top yelled ‘don’t you call me a fucking fascist!’ and grabbed David by the lapels, I yelled ‘OI! OI!’, and cut between them. The irony is, white-top isn’t entirely wrong, where he’s coming from, and the passion with which he’ll defend it, it’s true and wonderful, but his endpoint is off, and I am with David on having another vote, democracy never just ends, you can change your minds, you have to have the capacity to do so otherwise you’re doomed to stand by bullshit decisions for the sake of fucking what? Equally David I thought was going to get thumped, as he said, ‘I wanted it!’ and he did. He’s got very good reason to be as angry as he is.

But the fucking evil tragedy of it is this, two good men almost at each others’ throats, in a city so far north of London, almost couldn’t be further until you hit Scotland which is really another nation and soon-to-be another country again (I think, I hope), fighting over an epic, enormous lie, spun by a cabal of millionaire thieves and racists in London, who … they don’t even know Wallsend exists. All the know is their parents and mentors in the Tories made a load of money in the 1980s in the City, under monetarism, while the great industries of the north – the heavy industries, the unionised industries that helped fund Labour – were systematically wiped out by the Tories, by accident, and design. The EU has done a great deal for the region in the intervening 30 years, and now these bastards come back to spread their lies to get people to turn on the EU, with the plan to destroy the region and all else all over again. It’s a heist. A far-right heist. But as they literally lord it up in the clubs of Pall Mall, the little people far, far north are pushed to fight among themselves.


There are moves in Washington, fed by the Irish-American caucus, to prevent a hard border in Ireland, and that caucus has mobilised:

will be involved in whatever trade deal is to come between the UK and the US. From the other direction, of course, Tusk made his comments about those planless leading Brexiters in a conference with Varadkar. The EU has Ireland’s back because Ireland is part of the EU. As much as we can’t strike trade deals with individual EU countries, we can’t boot Ireland around. The two great Western powerhouses, the US and the EU, are onside with Ireland, not the UK.

It’s like the vile playground bully has struck up their old ways and hopes to have the feisty one against the wall, only this time, the feisty one’s friends have turned up … big lads, a lot of them.


“In the event of a Tory crash, [May] return to the Good Friday Agreement and she must begin preparation for an Irish referendum for Irish unity …”

Meanwhile, this bloke of the Orange Order (easy to forget amid one’s general ignorance of these things that the sectarianism in Northern Ireland is as evident in Scotland, too). Anyway this UKIP Prot-nut has a permanent seat in the BBCQT audience it appears. Wonderful stream of responding Tweets that when read in a Glaswegian accent are hilarious, not least, ‘next time why not film it in his fucking front room, save him the bother of having to travel over?!’

In response to Tusk (who is getting a surprising amount of ‘he’s a hottie!’ type accolades among others) it’s worth remembering how vile our own side regularly is vis-a-vis plain hate to foreigners (and that wasn’t what Tusk was advancing, it was towards the lying bastards with no plan – damn bloody right. Jesus shat that we need look to Tusk for truth. Many point to his Warsaw Pact youth as a Solidarity worker in opposition to the tyrants of Warsaw vs. the freakish fetishism of monocled privilege that was JRM or BoJo’s alcoholic anarchy). Anyway: