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Alex Callinicos/SWP vs Laurie Penny/New Statesman Facebook handbags

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We've had discussions about shit (at least 2), articul8's weird stuff about wanking to a picture of someone's face or whatever it was, and now what appears to be the beginnings of a novel about a bloke who attempts to seduce Beyonce getting taken roughly from behind by a military man (possibly likesfish or sassaferrato, but don't quote me on that). Oh, and there has been at least one post about the SWP and a few about Laurie Penny - as far as I know Urban's very first poster with a (really exhausting, honest) day job in the commentariat.

Good work!

But it's not all praise - discussion of the one topic that enquiring minds insist must be given serious attention - the fart - is conspicuous by its absence. So I'll start. On the way back from the pub tonight my mate Matt flawlessly farted the intro to come on Eileen. I was impressed and disgusted, both at the same time.
 
Nah, you're not getting it spiney - Here's how it goes...Oh as I withdrew my now limp and useless member from his throbbing hole, I saw it's involuntary twitcthing throb as an invitation to my own perversions
 
If I wrote it, he'd be on the train on the way to meet Beyonce where he'd make eye contact with a drunken squaddie. Anyway, the squaddie'd get up and head off towards the bogs but not before giving an almost imperceptible head gesture to our eponymous hero who, against his better judgement, follows the squaddie into the bogs. Anyway, our hero enters the bogs to find the squaddie smearing that pink squirty soap onto the head of his proud purple manhood before unceremoniously gripping our hero's shoulders, turning him round and ramming his face up against the mirror over the sink where he's confronted with the image of the agonised contortions of his own red & panting face and the thrusting khaki shillhouette behind him as he's brutally sodomised beyond his wildest imaginings of neither pleasure nor pain.

Later on, as he gets off the train, he's confronted by the horrified shriek of Beyonce who goes "What's that dribbling out of the bottom of your trousers onto your shoes? Is that spunk? Don't you know that's really bad for shoe leather?".

That's how my script'd go.

Well that just goes to show why you're not a successful writer; your plotting is all over the place. Following the opening quoted previously, it's pretty clear that the squaddie would have attracted our hero's attention to reveal a vital secret which moves the narrative on in a far more dynamic and altogether less prurient and squalid manner. Said squaddie has come across information which reveals that a small elite of neocon corporate overlords are preparing humanity for the final stage of capitalist domination. Now, having stripped away all but the last vestiges of effective democracy, personal liberty, employment rights and recourse to justice and equality, they're about to effect the last stage of he plan: the move to neofeudalism and the wholesale indenture of humanity.

To test whether mankind was ready to be enslaved in this manner, they've conducted various 'experiments' to determine the likely scale of resistance. Intelligence reports have led them to suppose that any opposition is likely to initially manifest itself online. To counter this they've spent years ensuring that all traditional outlets of dissent are dominated by colour supplement lifestyle-porn, tin-hat fanatics or whiny public schoolgirls playing at being radical. Humanity is doomed. Up steps Ronnie R, socialist icon, pisshead and all-round fuck-up to save the day.

He starts badly by being thrown into jail following a 'misunderstanding' in Greggs over the precise ownership of a corned beef pasty. There he is viciously bundled into a cell with a gibbering wreck of a man who turns out to be an ex member of KLF. Night after night, Ronnie, is forced to endure the deluded rantings of this wretched creature but, gradually, a strange tale emerges...
It seems KLF were secretly tasked with creating an 'installation piece', designed to reveal the depths of society's apathy, cynicism, decadence and credulity. To this end, they'd programmed a prosperous young Oxbridge graduate to believe she was actually a sort of messiah to the downtrodden and victimised, destined to lead us all to the bright uplands of...erm..some vaguely idealised world as channelled by a sixth-form wannabe politico who's smoked too much skunk and is sitting on the wall, expounding his 'theories' while he waits for his mum to pick up...cos 2miles is a long way...and it's dark. Too late, Ronnie's lunatic cell-mate realised that this was no art work...it was part of a secret....etc

Ronnie, after several showdowns with C wing's Mr Big, gains access to a secret laptop and discovers to his horror that our 'installation' has become the Voice of a Generation and vast swathes of mankind hang on her every word. Ronnie notes with horror that as we are drawn ever tighter into the vice of lifelong servitude, rather than resist, we are distracted by random whimsical musings about shite television shows, Top Shop and precise rules of etiquette for the 21st century 'activist-journalist'.

Ronnie must act....and fast...

That's how he plot SHOULD go...then: escape; close call as Ronnie-who's managed to get hold of a case of vodka-is nearly pulverised by Beyonce's tour bus; Beyonce's fierce and demented seduction of Ronnie; then, the 'fight-back' as Ronnie restores the will and belief of a broken people...
 
, articul8's weird stuff about wanking to a picture of someone's face or whatever it was,
interesting that so many people (fallaciously) interpreted my posts about ejaculation in the context of masturbation. I can only assume it's because you're all a load of wankers. :)
 
Well that just goes to show why you're not a successful writer; your plotting is all over the place. Following the opening quoted previously, it's pretty clear that the squaddie would have attracted our hero's attention to reveal a vital secret which moves the narrative on in a far more dynamic and altogether less prurient and squalid manner. Said squaddie has come across information which reveals that a small elite of neocon corporate overlords are preparing humanity for the final stage of capitalist domination. Now, having stripped away all but the last vestiges of effective democracy, personal liberty, employment rights and recourse to justice and equality, they're about to effect the last stage of he plan: the move to neofeudalism and the wholesale indenture of humanity.

To test whether mankind was ready to be enslaved in this manner, they've conducted various 'experiments' to determine the likely scale of resistance. Intelligence reports have led them to suppose that any opposition is likely to initially manifest itself online. To counter this they've spent years ensuring that all traditional outlets of dissent are dominated by colour supplement lifestyle-porn, tin-hat fanatics or whiny public schoolgirls playing at being radical. Humanity is doomed. Up steps Ronnie R, socialist icon, pisshead and all-round fuck-up to save the day.

He starts badly by being thrown into jail following a 'misunderstanding' in Greggs over the precise ownership of a corned beef pasty. There he is viciously bundled into a cell with a gibbering wreck of a man who turns out to be an ex member of KLF. Night after night, Ronnie, is forced to endure the deluded rantings of this wretched creature but, gradually, a strange tale emerges...
It seems KLF were secretly tasked with creating an 'installation piece', designed to reveal the depths of society's apathy, cynicism, decadence and credulity. To this end, they'd programmed a prosperous young Oxbridge graduate to believe she was actually a sort of messiah to the downtrodden and victimised, destined to lead us all to the bright uplands of...erm..some vaguely idealised world as channelled by a sixth-form wannabe politico who's smoked too much skunk and is sitting on the wall, expounding his 'theories' while he waits for his mum to pick up...cos 2miles is a long way...and it's dark. Too late, Ronnie's lunatic cell-mate realised that this was no art work...it was part of a secret....etc

Ronnie, after several showdowns with C wing's Mr Big, gains access to a secret laptop and discovers to his horror that our 'installation' has become the Voice of a Generation and vast swathes of mankind hang on her every word. Ronnie notes with horror that as we are drawn ever tighter into the vice of lifelong servitude, rather than resist, we are distracted by random whimsical musings about shite television shows, Top Shop and precise rules of etiquette for the 21st century 'activist-journalist'.

Ronnie must act....and fast...

That's how he plot SHOULD go...then: escape; close call as Ronnie-who's managed to get hold of a case of vodka-is nearly pulverised by Beyonce's tour bus; Beyonce's fierce and demented seduction of Ronnie; then, the 'fight-back' as Ronnie restores the will and belief of a broken people...

Write it. I would definitely read that.
 
Write it. I would definitely read that.

Thanks for saying so. I'm currently at that tricky stage in the process where the actual production of the novel has to take a back seat while I decide who'll play me in the film...and decide on the exact details of how the spontaneous 'word of mouth' viral marketing campaign will play out. Always best to get the basics sorted first.

I want Ronnie to embody old-fashioned proletarian values, so obviously I'm thinking of Hugh Grant for the role. I've always found that a public school and Oxbridge background allows an actor to fully and convincingly inhabit a working class aesthetic and world-view. I'm just a bit worried there'd be no real chemistry between him and Beyonce. What d'ya reckon?
 
Those hot Paul Mason journalism tips from about page 150 onwards again. Firebox loonyleft paraphernalia list to follow.

PD paulmason.jpg

11. Join Workers Power.

12. Leave Workers Power.

13. Use a typewriter while all around you process words.

14. A League of Nations should be set up to guarantee the political and territorial independence of all states.

15. The land of Mexico should be equally divided among its people.

16. We demand the creation and maintenance of a sound middle-class, the immediate communalization of large stores which will be rented cheaply to small tradespeople, and the strongest consideration must be given to ensure that small traders shall deliver the supplies needed by the State, the provinces and municipalities.

17. The milky bars are on me.

18. After one year from the ratification of this article the manufacture, sale, or transportation of intoxicating liquors within, the importation thereof into, or the exportation thereof from the United States and all territory subject to the jurisdiction thereof for beverage purposes is hereby prohibited.

19. PD carpentaria.jpg

20. The Leader of the plant makes the decisions for the employees and labourers in all matters concerning the enterprise, as far as they are regulated by this law. He is responsible for the well-being of the employees and labourers. The employees and labourers owe him faithfulness according to the principles of the factory community.

21. We place the cause of the Irish Republic under the protection of the Most High God, Whose blessing we invoke upon our arms, and we pray that no one who serves that cause will dishonour it by cowardice, inhumanity, or rapine.

22. When you return from a scout, and come near our forts, avoid the usual roads, and avenues thereto, lest the enemy should have headed you, and lay in ambush to receive you, when almost exhausted with fatigues.

23. And thou shalt eat before the LORD thy God, in the place which he shall choose to place his name there, the tithe of thy corn, of thy wine, and of thine oil, and the firstlings of thy herds and of thy flocks; that thou mayest learn to fear the LORD thy God always.

24. It is only natural that when the capable intelligences of a nation, which are always in a minority, are regarded only as of the same value as all the rest, then genius, capacity, the value of personality are slowly subjected to the majority and this process is then falsely named the rule of the people. For this is not rule of the people, but in reality the rule of stupidity, of mediocrity, of half-heartedness, of cowardice, of weakness, and of inadequacy.

25. In the midst of wanton aggression, we yet call upon the Arab inhabitants of the State of Israel to return to the ways of peace and play their part in the development of the State, with full and equal citizenship and due representation in its bodies and institutions - provisional or permanent.

26. Under which king, Besonian? Speak, or die.

27. Don't leave your valuables or bag in the care of a random stranger.

28. The USSR steadfastly pursues a Leninist policy of peace and stands for strengthening of the security of nations and broad international co-operation. The foreign policy of the USSR is aimed at ensuring international conditions favourable for building communism in the USSR, safeguarding the state interests of the Soviet Union, consolidating the positions of world socialism, supporting the struggle of peoples for national liberation and social progress, preventing wars of aggression, achieving universal and complete disarmament, and consistently implementing the principle of the peaceful coexistence of states with different social systems. In the USSR war propaganda is banned.

29. Unexpected item in the bagging area.

30. We can only be right with and by the Party, for history has provided no other way of being in the right... And if the Party adopts a decision which one or other of us thinks unjust, he will say, just or unjust, it is my party, and I shall support the consequences of the decision to the end.

31. Mornington Crescent

32. In the four corners of Quebec, may those who have been disdainfully called lousy Frenchmen and alcoholics begin a vigorous battle against those who have muzzled liberty and justice; may they put out of commission all the professional hold-up artists and swindlers: bankers, businessmen, judges and corrupt political wheeler-dealers....

34. When you're fucking with me you look at the fucking ground, you look at a tree, you look at a bench, you look at any fucking inanimate object, you do not look at any other human being, you slag, do you understand?

35. Heat not a furnace for your own foe so hot that it do singe yourself.

36. You heard me - FLY THIS PLANE TO CUBA!

37. A society in which the observance of the law is not assured, nor the separation of powers defined, has no constitution at all.

38. There is rebellion in the wind...It will be crushed.

39. When insurgency threatens, let power prevail.

40. We will sing of the great crowds agitated by work, pleasure and revolt; the multi-coloured and polyphonic surf of revolutions in modern capitals: the nocturnal vibration of the arsenals and the workshops beneath their violent electric moons: the gluttonous railway stations devouring smoking serpents; factories suspended from the clouds by the thread of their smoke; bridges with the leap of gymnasts flung across the diabolic cutlery of sunny rivers: adventurous steamers sniffing the horizon; great-breasted locomotives, puffing on the rails like enormous steel horses with long tubes for bridle, and the gliding flight of aeroplanes whose propeller sounds like the flapping of a flag and the applause of enthusiastic crowds.

41. Passionate, organized hatred is the element missing in all that we do to try to change the world. Now is the time to spread hate, hatred for the rich.

42. Only she can be strong who knows sorrow and deprivation. Overcoming oneself, and life, leads to strength. And that also leads to clarity.

43. The Company cannot accept responsibility for loss or damage to persons or property while on the Company's buses. Driver below - do not stamp feet.

44. Ambitious careerists may now be disguised as progressives.

45. I will try again in Belgium.

46. This is the greatest manifesto ever written. all you other manifestos better recognise.

47. This here is the wattle, emblem of our land. You can stick in a bottle, or you can hold it in yer hand.

48. Do not eat silica gel.

49. Ways to leave your lover.

50. Love me, I'm a liberal.
 
Apropos Ms. Penny's accusations of misogyny, I'm reminded of a journalist's sage words:
"It's as if there were a sort of 'prejudging' going on. It's almost like...what's the word? Oh yes. Prejudice."

Hoist by your own petard, Ms. Penny. ;)
 
Thanks for saying so. I'm currently at that tricky stage in the process where the actual production of the novel has to take a back seat while I decide who'll play me in the film...and decide on the exact details of how the spontaneous 'word of mouth' viral marketing campaign will play out. Always best to get the basics sorted first.

Either gareth off the office and the viral campaign can be started by someone using your name stalking pennyred's twitter feed and spamming it with fake news reports that are really excerpts from the book.

I want Ronnie to embody old-fashioned proletarian values, so obviously I'm thinking of Hugh Grant for the role. I've always found that a public school and Oxbridge background allows an actor to fully and convincingly inhabit a working class aesthetic and world-view. I'm just a bit worried there'd be no real chemistry between him and Beyonce. What d'ya reckon?

Get this lovely lady to play Beyonce - problem solved:

220px-Divine_Brown_mug_shot.jpg
 
By the way, Laura still hasn't done a tweet since she posted the link to that letter to a suicidal disabled benefit claimant (which I thought was pretty good tbh but after reading the stuff from mental health professionals I'm not so sure). That's a full day without twatting - has that ever happened before? I'm wondering if we might have broken her or her internet :(
 
What's been said?

Apparently she was advised not to publish anything on it because it could affect the individual concerned and that she should instead get in touch with Samaritans and so on. But she went ahead and published anyway - we've only got the bloke's word for it who she apparently asked for advice so there might be more to it but it doesn't look good.
 
By the way, Laura still hasn't done a tweet since she posted the link to that letter to a suicidal disabled benefit claimant (which I thought was pretty good tbh but after reading the stuff from mental health professionals I'm not so sure). That's a full day without twatting - has that ever happened before? I'm wondering if we might have broken her or her internet :(
Relax, it's the weekend - radical downtime!
 
Getting started in journalism: the essential guide.


1)Make sure you say hello to mummy's cleaner now and again. This is known as "a youth spent transgressing traditional social demarcations and engaging in radical discourse with the dispossessed and downtrodden".

2)Make sure you get to Oxbridge.

3) If anyone finds out you had a pony, tell them you only kept it ironically and that your special secret nick name for him was Gramsci.

4)Pretty much make shit up. That way you can even write it before the event. If anyone calls you on it, blame it on misogyny, sectarianism or jealousy.

5) Remember there are literally billions of human beings; and they're always saying stuff to each other. It's entirely possible that as you travel the globe in search of a story, unnamed and unidentified stereotypical 'characters' will pop up at fortunate moments with the perfect apposite quote. And, as we all know, 'entirely possible' is tantamount to reality.
 
Apparently she was advised not to publish anything on it because it could affect the individual concerned and that she should instead get in touch with Samaritans and so on. But she went ahead and published anyway - we've only got the bloke's word for it who she apparently asked for advice so there might be more to it but it doesn't look good.

That may link up with the screen shots of the tweets Firky posted earlier on in this thread.
 
Getting started in journalism: the essential guide.


1)Make sure you say hello to mummy's cleaner now and again. This is known as "a youth spent transgressing traditional social demarcations and engaging in radical discourse with the dispossessed and downtrodden".

2)Make sure you get to Oxbridge.

3) If anyone finds out you had a pony, tell them you only kept it ironically and that your special secret nick name for him was Gramsci.

4)Pretty much make shit up. That way you can even write it before the event. If anyone calls you on it, blame it on misogyny, sectarianism or jealousy.

5) Remember there are literally billions of human beings; and they're always saying stuff to each other. It's entirely possible that as you travel the globe in search of a story, unnamed and unidentified stereotypical 'characters' will pop up at fortunate moments with the perfect apposite quote. And, as we all know, 'entirely possible' is tantamount to reality.


This couldn't be a post-ironic Dave, could it? :hmm:

roger%20lloyde%20pack.jpg
 
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