SOMETHING ROTTEN

O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!
My tables, -- meet it is I set it down,
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain;
At least I’m sure it may be so in Denmark.

Hamlet, Shakespeare

AS I WRITE OUR GOOD LEADERS are sitting at top table in Copenhagen, smiling, or smirking, at the gathered cameras, and so I make Shakespeare’s words my own. Never has such a collective of crooks been seated together with such unscrupulous aims and devious intent. If anyone actually believes that any of the heads of state and/or government at this “climate change” meeting had any interest whatsoever other than making sure they can feather their own nests for the next few years then they need taking out and being slapped with a wet haddock.

ONLY A FEW OF THESE PEOPLE BELIEVE in climate change, and even they do not truly care. The main concern in the minds of these villains may vary, but the underlying principle is the same: to cheat others out of money, profit, work and future. Gordon Brown, Sarkozy, Merkel and the sneaky Barroso might want China, Brazil and India to reduce their industrial outputs, but this is only to keep the European economies alive, rather than being swamped by cheap goods.

THE DEVELOPING COUNTRIES MIGHT AGREE to reduce their emissions, but this will only be in exchange for Western money, which will, as usual, soon find its merry little way into the pockets of the leaders of these less than democratic, corruption-ridden, often nabob-led hell-holes in which the idea of betterment or welfare for the common people would be enough to turn the stomachs of those in charge.

THE COMMITMENT OF THE UNITED STATES can be gauged by the fact that Barack Obama has only just turned up now (at 11 am on the last day), and has not yet gone to the sessions hall, having left all his negotiations to the boggle-eyed, crazy woman who possesses no clout whatsoever. The tables of the Plenary Session are a mass of confusion, with enough heated discussion going on to cause more than the dreaded global warming. Meanwhile, outside, it is the coldest winter for seventy years. And the news from England is no better.

PLUM DUFF AND SPORTS NEWS

LITTLE HAS BEEN HEARD FROM Carol Ann Duffy since her appointment as poet laureate, but the publication of her “Christmas poem” (sic) is proof that she hasn’t just been hanging around the house watching television for the last few months. However, a poet laureate attacking British society in a yuletide poem is somewhat off, to say the least. The decent thing would have been to reject the prize, and leave the job of destroying British society to those who know how to do it, such as Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling.


DUFFY’S APPEARANCE LAST NIGHT on The South Bank Show, hosted by the moronic Melvyn Bragg, served once again to show that those who choose our poet laureates – in theory the Queen on the advice of the Prime Minister – should get out of the house more often. And in this case the House means the House of Commons. Choosing a poet simply because she is a left-wing, woman, labour party member and reputed lesbian is madness. My own nomination for the position, although, alas, I fear it may never come to pass, has to be the great versificator John Cooper Clarke. And in homage to him I will include some words I have written in his style.


The Member of the Labour Party

She’s a member of the party and so she can be arty
She won’t be called a boring farty
Girlie-girl because she lives in the
Fairy world where what matters is the
Fact of being a socialist and totally tarty



IN THE MEANTIME, I AM INTRIGUED by the events surrounding the activities of Eldrick Tont "Tiger" Woods, an American golfer who is one of the highest earners in the world of sports. A gentleman would naturally imagine that if one earns in the region of fifteen or sixteen million dollars per year just for hitting a ball around the countryside, one’s wife would be more than happy to allow one to do a little sport on the side, holing a few birdies without too much fuss. But apparently not. Now that Woods has been found out, his ridiculous manner of “clearing the air” between himself and his wife is to promise to have “treatment” to stop him being “addicted to sex”. I cannot for the life of me imagine what such treatment might involve, but I wish Mr Woods well on the road to his no doubt painful recovery.