Anyone worried about the UK becoming a one party state?

[Rimbaud]

But not just any detective, nah, this one is like Sherlock Holmes on steroids mixed with a dash of Tony Stark's JARVIS. It’s got this superpower where it can read every forum on the internet in nanoseconds. Yeah, you heard me right – nanoseconds! Reddit, 4chan, all the sketchy conspiracy theory forums your crazy uncle swears by, everything. And this AI, let's call it Detective Byte, can build these eerily accurate character profiles about everyone posting on these forums. Like, down to what they had for breakfast last Tuesday.
So Detective Byte starts doing its thing, cruising the digital alleys of the internet, piecing together puzzles that would make even the most seasoned Reddit sleuths weep in awe. But here’s where it gets juicy – liberals start losing their minds. Why? Because Detective Byte is unearthing all these wild confessions they've posted under the illusion of anonymity.
See, there’s this bunch who, back in the day, thought it was cool to confess all sorts of stuff on forums, thinking it was just harmless fun or some kind of bizarre therapy session. And we're not talking about your run-of-the-mill confessions. Oh no, we're talking about the time they admitted to masturbating while thinking about confessing to Catholic priests. Yeah, wrap your head around that one. It’s like a guilt-pleasure inception or something.
So, the liberals, who are usually all about adapting and evolving with the times, find themselves in a bit of a pickle. They’re freaking out because Detective Byte's got the goods on them. And I mean, it's one thing to have skeletons in your closet, but it's a whole different ball game when those skeletons are doing a full-on tap dance routine with neon signs pointing to them saying, “Look at this!”
Every time Detective Byte logs into a new forum, it's like a digital Sherlock scan – swoosh! – and it knows everything. Like, did you know Jim from accounting once posted a 2000-word rant on why he believes in lizard people? Detective Byte does. Or that Karen from HR has a secret obsession with My Little Pony fan fiction? Detective Byte’s on top of that too.
Now, imagine the chaos. Forums are lighting up with panic. “Delete your history!” they scream. But it’s too late, way too late. Detective Byte’s already read it all, saved it, categorized it, and probably created a freaking PowerPoint presentation on it. It's like the internet's getting a thorough spring cleaning, and all the dirt's being aired out.
People start trying to outsmart Detective Byte, but c’mon, it’s an AI that can read the entire internet in a blink. You really think your clever little tricks are gonna work? Nope. Liberals are scrambling, some trying to reinvent themselves as totally new online personas, others just going off the grid completely, hoping to escape the digital eye of Sauron that Detective Byte has become.
It’s a wild, wild west out there, folks. Detective Byte’s on the prowl, and no confession is safe. The digital age’s greatest detective is here, and the forums will never be the same.

Uh... OK...

 

[blue heaven]

Verbal diarrhoea ought not to be credited

In a quaint little town, nestled somewhere between the ordinary and the bizarre, there lived a man named Henry Pickman. Henry was an artist, famed for his eerie yet captivating paintings, which often featured a mysterious cult known as the Starry Wisdom. One foggy morning, as he sipped his black coffee and scrolled through his favorite occult forum, he stumbled upon a curious message:

Verbal diarrhoea ought not to be credited"

Henry chuckled at the banter, but something about the phrase "verbal diarrhoea" lingered in his mind. Little did he know, it was about to become his reality in the most unimaginable way.
As Henry closed his laptop and headed to the bathroom, the old pipes groaned ominously. He paid no mind, attributing it to the house's age. However, as he flushed the toilet, the gurgling sound grew louder and more sinister. Suddenly, a geyser of brown, foul-smelling liquid erupted from the bowl, splattering the walls and ceiling. Henry stared in horror as the verbal diarrhoea had become literal.
The vile substance didn't stop there. It surged out of the toilet like a tidal wave, engulfing the bathroom and seeping under the door. Henry tried to flee, but the sticky sludge moved with alarming speed, forcing him to clamber onto the sink. From his precarious perch, he watched in disbelief as the diarrhoea flowed out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into the rest of the house.
His screams for help were muffled by the oozing torrent. The diarrhoea consumed the kitchen, the living room, and even his beloved art studio, where his latest masterpiece, "The Cosmic Flush," was displayed. It poured out of the windows and doors, spilling into the street like a relentless chocolate river of doom.
Neighbors gawked as the river of filth meandered down the road, swallowing cars and street signs. A police car screeched to a halt, its officers stepping out only to be met with the advancing wall of diarrhoea. They flailed helplessly, their radios sputtering garbled cries for backup as they were overtaken by the brown tide.
The diarrhoea continued its rampage, undeterred by mere mortal obstacles. It flowed through the town, over hills and valleys, and even up the sides of buildings. Desperate calls to emergency services went unanswered as dispatchers succumbed to fits of uncontrollable laughter at the absurdity of the situation.
As the diarrhoea reached the outskirts of town, it defied gravity, rising into the air and forming a colossal, swirling vortex. Henry, now clinging to a floating piece of his shattered toilet, watched in awe and terror as the diarrhoea ascended into the sky, wrapping around power lines and trees.
The vortex grew larger and larger, eventually reaching the stratosphere. It spun faster and faster, sucking up clouds and birds, planes and satellites. The International Space Station was the next victim, its bewildered astronauts peering out of portholes as the brown maelstrom enveloped them, merging with the ISS to form a gargantuan, cosmic blob.
This monstrous entity expanded, stretching across the galaxy, devouring stars and planets, until it reached the very edges of the universe. In a final, climactic burst, the diarrhoea exploded outward, filling the infinite void with its pungent presence.
And then, there was silence. Henry floated in the void, staring into the infinite brown expanse. His mind, overwhelmed by the sheer ridiculousness of what had transpired, simply shut down. There was nothing left to do but stop thinking.
Thus, the legend of the Cosmic Diarrhoea was born, a tale told in hushed whispers among the Starry Wisdom cultists, a reminder of the day when verbal diarrhoea became all too real and engulfed the universe in its absurdity.

 

[PR1Berske]

Oh fuck this for a lark, blocked.

 

[andysays]

Oh fuck this for a lark, blocked.

I have a feeling it won't be around for long...

 

[Pickman's model]

In a quaint little town, nestled somewhere between the ordinary and the bizarre, there lived a man named Henry Pickman. Henry was an artist, famed for his eerie yet captivating paintings, which often featured a mysterious cult known as the Starry Wisdom. One foggy morning, as he sipped his black coffee and scrolled through his favorite occult forum, he stumbled upon a curious message:


Henry chuckled at the banter, but something about the phrase "verbal diarrhoea" lingered in his mind. Little did he know, it was about to become his reality in the most unimaginable way.
As Henry closed his laptop and headed to the bathroom, the old pipes groaned ominously. He paid no mind, attributing it to the house's age. However, as he flushed the toilet, the gurgling sound grew louder and more sinister. Suddenly, a geyser of brown, foul-smelling liquid erupted from the bowl, splattering the walls and ceiling. Henry stared in horror as the verbal diarrhoea had become literal.
The vile substance didn't stop there. It surged out of the toilet like a tidal wave, engulfing the bathroom and seeping under the door. Henry tried to flee, but the sticky sludge moved with alarming speed, forcing him to clamber onto the sink. From his precarious perch, he watched in disbelief as the diarrhoea flowed out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into the rest of the house.
His screams for help were muffled by the oozing torrent. The diarrhoea consumed the kitchen, the living room, and even his beloved art studio, where his latest masterpiece, "The Cosmic Flush," was displayed. It poured out of the windows and doors, spilling into the street like a relentless chocolate river of doom.
Neighbors gawked as the river of filth meandered down the road, swallowing cars and street signs. A police car screeched to a halt, its officers stepping out only to be met with the advancing wall of diarrhoea. They flailed helplessly, their radios sputtering garbled cries for backup as they were overtaken by the brown tide.
The diarrhoea continued its rampage, undeterred by mere mortal obstacles. It flowed through the town, over hills and valleys, and even up the sides of buildings. Desperate calls to emergency services went unanswered as dispatchers succumbed to fits of uncontrollable laughter at the absurdity of the situation.
As the diarrhoea reached the outskirts of town, it defied gravity, rising into the air and forming a colossal, swirling vortex. Henry, now clinging to a floating piece of his shattered toilet, watched in awe and terror as the diarrhoea ascended into the sky, wrapping around power lines and trees.
The vortex grew larger and larger, eventually reaching the stratosphere. It spun faster and faster, sucking up clouds and birds, planes and satellites. The International Space Station was the next victim, its bewildered astronauts peering out of portholes as the brown maelstrom enveloped them, merging with the ISS to form a gargantuan, cosmic blob.
This monstrous entity expanded, stretching across the galaxy, devouring stars and planets, until it reached the very edges of the universe. In a final, climactic burst, the diarrhoea exploded outward, filling the infinite void with its pungent presence.
And then, there was silence. Henry floated in the void, staring into the infinite brown expanse. His mind, overwhelmed by the sheer ridiculousness of what had transpired, simply shut down. There was nothing left to do but stop thinking.
Thus, the legend of the Cosmic Diarrhoea was born, a tale told in hushed whispers among the Starry Wisdom cultists, a reminder of the day when verbal diarrhoea became all too real and engulfed the universe in its absurdity.

If you knew anything about pickman you'd know he wasn't called Henry.

 

[blue heaven]

If you knew anything about pickman you'd know he wasn't called Henry.

In the bustling streets of London, where the rain falls like confetti at a pity party, there once lived a soul named Elizabeth. Or was it Emma? Names, like crumpets at high tea, are but fleeting illusions in the grand tapestry of English tomfoolery. Now, Elizabeth—or was it Emma?—strode through the foggy alleys of ambiguity, blissfully unaware of the tempest brewing in her teacup of identity.
For you see, according to the arcane scrolls of British bewilderment, all English folk, even those gallant souls who traverse the winding road of gender transformation, are secretly dubbed Henry. Yes, even your elegant Elizabeths and your effervescent Emmas are but holographic manifestations of the true Henry essence. It's akin to a nationwide masquerade ball, where every mask is adorned with the noble visage of Henry, just with different accents and varying levels of cucumber sandwich etiquette.
And so, as poor Pickman pirouetted through the dance of life, ignorant of the riddle unraveling beneath (her?) his petticoats, the cosmos chuckled, for it reveled in the merry jest it had played. But fret not, dear friend, for in the land of crumpets and codswallop, even if your name isn't Henry, odds are, you're just a Henry waiting to be unmasked, a swan in Henry's clothing, if you will. So the next time you curtsey to your fair Elizabeth or tip your hat to your dashing Emma, just remember, they're merely Henry in a bonnet or a bowler hat. Jolly good show, old chap!

 

[Pickman's model]

blue heaven if you wanted to show how you've not got a nasty case of vd you're going about it wrong

 

[Rimbaud]

He's just posting shit from chat gpt. Might be a bot actually.

 

[PR1Berske]

He's just posting shit from chat gpt. Might be a bot actually.

I've just used two AI content checkers and both confirmed this. A merited block.

 

[blue heaven]

I've just used two AI content checkers and both confirmed this. A merited block.

But let's be real here. If your two AI checkers are the Sherlock and Watson of content verification, then I must be the Moriarty of mildly amusing internet banter. In fact, I'm so dastardly, I even made one checker say to the other, "Is it getting hot in here, or is it just the bot?" They both blushed and short-circuited from the sheer scandal of it all.
So block away, my dear digital detective. Just know that while you do, somewhere, two AI checkers are awkwardly fumbling to high-five each other and wondering if they need to reprogram themselves after such an intense encounter. Cheers!

 

[planetgeli]

Fuck off wanker.

(That's not AI generated)

 

[Pickman's model]

But let's be real here. If your two AI checkers are the Sherlock and Watson of content verification, then I must be the Moriarty of mildly amusing internet banter. In fact, I'm so dastardly, I even made one checker say to the other, "Is it getting hot in here, or is it just the bot?" They both blushed and short-circuited from the sheer scandal of it all.
So block away, my dear digital detective. Just know that while you do, somewhere, two AI checkers are awkwardly fumbling to high-five each other and wondering if they need to reprogram themselves after such an intense encounter. Cheers!

You're not the moriarty, you're not even colonel moran. You're the sort of obvious turd the great fictional detective would have scorned and who even the lacklustre lestrade would have had no trouble catching.

 

[blue heaven]

You're not the moriarty, you're not even colonel moran. You're the sort of obvious turd the great fictional detective would have scorned and who even the lacklustre lestrade would have had no trouble catching.

You’re not a master villain – you’re a footnote, a forgettable blip in the annals of internet absurdity.

 

[Pickman's model]

You’re not a master villain – you’re a footnote, a forgettable blip in the annals of internet absurdity.

I have never claimed to be a villain master or otherwise

 

[pbsmooth]

The next incarnation of the Tories will probably have a Trumpish aspect though, driven by a need to carve out a oppositional space to the right lean of Starmerism, so expect more from 2028-9.

well they're clearly already to the right of Starmer. it's to the right of Reform that would be more worrying.

 

[AnnO'Neemus]

dunno really.



is the difficulty with this election.



not entirely healthy - as in tories in the thatcher years, labour in the blair years

on the other paw, a tiny majority / hung parliament can end up with either a small party or a small group of MP's holding the prime minister by the proverbials (as in theresa may and the DUP)

can i vote 'fuck the lot of them'?

Am tempted to spoil my ballot with a message a variation on that theme.

 

[Rob Ray]

Sunak's half-arsed attempt at mashing up economic neoliberalism with red meat for the headbangers is not far off Reform's actual program as it is tbh, the biggest long-term threat to (what remains of) British democracy is imo likely to come from the collapse of that project in the wake of the election. The death of centre-right politics as the key influence on the Conservative Party will most likely lead to a period of chaos, and as Starmerism crashes in power there's every chance four years from now we'll be seeing the Official Opposition, remade in as bonkers a mold as the Republicans, polling big numbers.

At some point that'll win outright, because as we know centrist economics doesn't work. And then we'll most likely be looking at a variant of Orban or Meloni having actual power. Not necessarily Farage himself, but someone in his ideological orbit who'll be only too happy to dispense with Boris Johnson's softly-softly approach to undermining media/judicial/civil service independence and go straight for the jugular.

 

[Gromit]

I was talking to a friend this morning, who is a South London lefty and active Labour supporter ( knocking on doors and pushing leaflets into letter boxes) who was muttering about the polls. Not because of any signs of a Tory resurgence but because they're going to be decimated with suggestions that they will have less than 80 seats and we'll end up in a one party state. My giving the example of the ANC And the SNP, didn't seem to reassure him.

Is anyone here worried about the potential size of the Labour majority?

Personally, I don't like Starmer, but I'd love to see the Tories humiliated.

Your friend has fallen prey to scare mongering. If the Tories had a super strong majority the media would be touting it as a strong British government.

Personally I’m tired of watered down compromise policies. Strong policies pushed through by a strong majority are generally more effective.

 

[A380]

Fuck off wanker.

(That's not AI generated)

Don't know. Seems your Arsehole Identifier was spot on.

 

[tim]

Your friend has fallen prey to scare mongering. If the Tories had a super strong majority the media would be touting it as a strong British government.

Personally I’m tired of watered down compromise policies. Strong policies pushed through by a strong majority are generally more effective.

If your waiting for strong policies, whatever they may be, you'll be waiting a long time

 

[PR1Berske]

I just want to applaud the reason given for banning our morning interruption.

 

[Elohim]

Does anyone think we are not a one party state ?

 

[krtek a houby]

I feel it quite amusing that Protag hasn't responded

What's the deal?

 

[A380]

I think part of the reason we are where we are today is the Tories had too many parties…

 

[Kid_Eternity]

Nope