MPs beating people up.
- Thread starter tim
- Start date
Wilf
Slouching towards Billingham
Managed to slaughter a few thousand with his Covid policy. Those he missed, Sunak mopped up with the Eat Out to Help Out offensive.
JimW
支那暗杀团
They embraced the nickname sarcastically apparently, as the Italian campaign was a real grind as well, so by no means a light posting.
PTK
Paul Kegan
Not really; "D Day Dodger" was what Lady Astor called the British troops fighting and dying in Italy.
Humberto
dreamin man
He's definitely got bodies on him, going around hospitals spurning masks.
Humberto
dreamin man
Anzio sounds fun.
PTK
Paul Kegan
His crime would not be classed as Violent Disorder.Drunk Violent Disorder after a session at 2.45 in the morning thats 5 years in his own words
and theres space now theyve let some out early
View attachment 448702
It was not "An offence committed when three or more persons, present together, use or threaten unlawful violence (R v Mahroof (1988) 88 Cr App R 317)."
Weller
So ermm ... You know ermm
Yeah that wont stick it does look like his drinking buddies all left him to to carry out his drunken violence and thuggery aloneHis crime would not be classed as Violent Disorder.
It was not "An offence committed when three or more persons, present together, use or threaten unlawful violence (R v Mahroof (1988) 88 Cr App R 317)."
Doubt much will happen to be honest I just thought some of his his previous tweets about thugs drunks , and criminals etc were quite apt
Though the later cctv footage doesnt show him being threatened at all the other chap even seems to have his hands in pockets at the time so lucky he didnt hit his head when he fell backwards and then he hit him again several times whilst on the floor perhaps there is a longer story clearly quite drunk and angry thuggish too in some of the videos too
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andysays
Love and solidarity
Amesbury has had the whip withdrawn and is suspended from the party
Labour suspends MP after CCTV appears to show him punching man
tim
EXPLODED TIM! (Help me!!!)
That was the implication of my post.
Boo Radley75
Well-Known Member
Statement about this from Reform. You know the party that currently has an MP who was convicted and jailed for beating up his ex girlfriend. The 
at the lack of self awareness here.
at the lack of self awareness here.
Dom Traynor
Tino Pai
A380
How do I change this 'custom title' thing then?
Urban keeping it topical…. Second front now!
scalyboy
They’re taking the piss now
Couldn't post the following in the Fail’s comments section for some reason, so Urban will have to do instead, a damn poor substitute, but there you go:
“If you ask me, this is just a lot of silly fuss over nothing. Whatever happened to real men settling their differences in robust fashion?
These days, if you’re unfortunate enough to be sat on the Tube adjacent to a mewling, puking toddler, wailing and befouling itself, you can’t even give it a firm clip round the ear any more. Try that now and Sadiq Khan’s BtP stormtroopers will have dragged you off to chokey in an instant.
Nanny state! When I was a cheeky teenager I had a number of run-ins with elected members of parliament who inevitably bested me on account of our size differential. Never did me any harm - indeed, these altercations taught me the meaning of respect.
I well recall an autumn afternoon some time in the 1980s while strolling across Hampstead Heath. Who did I espy ahead of me on the footpath but the former Labour leader Michael Foot!
“Get out of my way you old fool”, I shouted in jocular fashion. “Coffin dodgers like you should remain indoors sucking on a Werthers instead of blocking people’s way”
Well! He certainly didn’t take that kindly; as a vocal supporter of CND and a supposed man of peace I was surprised. The Rt Hon M Foot MP proceeded to belabour me about my head, arms and shoulders with his walking stick, and these were no mean blows, let me tell you. I was aching and bruised for some weeks after, but it taught me a valuable lesson.
Similarly, I was once waiting in a taxi queue in London’s West End after a rather egregious session in a nightclub. I noticed John Prescott MP in the queue behind me, and by way of badinage, and to pass the time, I uttered a few words of harmless banter.
“Get back on your trawler, you unkempt upstart”, I jovially said. “Oafs like yourself who stink of halibut have no place in the Mother of Parliaments - your only useful service to the nation is hauling in the fishing nets to feed your betters - off you trot, you Grimsby goblin”
Goodness me, I was on the ground in a trice! Mr Prescott expertly felled me with a jab-hook combination that would’ve given the great Sugar Ray Robinson pause for thought. That made me choose my words more carefully in future!
And please don’t assume I was some sort of anti-Labour firebrand; I have also been put in my place by more than one eminent Tory. I vividly recall an evening dinner dance at my local Conservative Club. I expect I’d over-imbibed, as was my wont in my younger days, and could sometimes be loose-tongued, especially when it came to paying compliments to the ladies.
Guest of honour that night was best-selling author and Conservative chairman Sir Jeffrey Archer (I suppose these days I had better write ‘chairperson’ in case His Majesty’s Police pay me a visit
)
While he was busy signing copies of his latest page-turner, I seized the opportunity to whisper a few harmless and endearing bon mots into his fragrant wife’s shell-like. “Wouldn’t mind bending you over the billiards table darling”, I quipped.
She turned a vivid shade of puce and immediately sought her better half, who was ‘in my face’ in a matter of seconds.
“Bit of a ladies’ man are yer?” he bellowed, somewhat aggressively, I have to say. “Time for a straightener ‘mate’ - you an’ me, on the cobbles - outside now you cant!”
Archer gave me a merciless thumping that had me crying for my mother. I was in hospital for ten days afterwards.
But I want to make it plain that I bear no malice, neither to him, Prescott or Foot. We once took Pride in our strong men who rose up firmly in hard times, standing stiff and proud … before bending the knee, Gay Rights and other assorted foolishnesses took hold of our once-great nation.
Who can forget that immortal scene in Ken Russell’s ‘Women In Love’ when a nude Alan Bates and an equally naked Oliver Reed, their firm bodies gleaming with massage oil, wrestle manfully in front of a cosy hearth, their lissom limbs set a-gleam by the fire’s flickering glow?
These types of manly pursuits are what made Britain Great!”
“If you ask me, this is just a lot of silly fuss over nothing. Whatever happened to real men settling their differences in robust fashion?
These days, if you’re unfortunate enough to be sat on the Tube adjacent to a mewling, puking toddler, wailing and befouling itself, you can’t even give it a firm clip round the ear any more. Try that now and Sadiq Khan’s BtP stormtroopers will have dragged you off to chokey in an instant.
Nanny state! When I was a cheeky teenager I had a number of run-ins with elected members of parliament who inevitably bested me on account of our size differential. Never did me any harm - indeed, these altercations taught me the meaning of respect.
I well recall an autumn afternoon some time in the 1980s while strolling across Hampstead Heath. Who did I espy ahead of me on the footpath but the former Labour leader Michael Foot!
“Get out of my way you old fool”, I shouted in jocular fashion. “Coffin dodgers like you should remain indoors sucking on a Werthers instead of blocking people’s way”
Well! He certainly didn’t take that kindly; as a vocal supporter of CND and a supposed man of peace I was surprised. The Rt Hon M Foot MP proceeded to belabour me about my head, arms and shoulders with his walking stick, and these were no mean blows, let me tell you. I was aching and bruised for some weeks after, but it taught me a valuable lesson.
Similarly, I was once waiting in a taxi queue in London’s West End after a rather egregious session in a nightclub. I noticed John Prescott MP in the queue behind me, and by way of badinage, and to pass the time, I uttered a few words of harmless banter.
“Get back on your trawler, you unkempt upstart”, I jovially said. “Oafs like yourself who stink of halibut have no place in the Mother of Parliaments - your only useful service to the nation is hauling in the fishing nets to feed your betters - off you trot, you Grimsby goblin”
Goodness me, I was on the ground in a trice! Mr Prescott expertly felled me with a jab-hook combination that would’ve given the great Sugar Ray Robinson pause for thought. That made me choose my words more carefully in future!
And please don’t assume I was some sort of anti-Labour firebrand; I have also been put in my place by more than one eminent Tory. I vividly recall an evening dinner dance at my local Conservative Club. I expect I’d over-imbibed, as was my wont in my younger days, and could sometimes be loose-tongued, especially when it came to paying compliments to the ladies.
Guest of honour that night was best-selling author and Conservative chairman Sir Jeffrey Archer (I suppose these days I had better write ‘chairperson’ in case His Majesty’s Police pay me a visit
)While he was busy signing copies of his latest page-turner, I seized the opportunity to whisper a few harmless and endearing bon mots into his fragrant wife’s shell-like. “Wouldn’t mind bending you over the billiards table darling”, I quipped.
She turned a vivid shade of puce and immediately sought her better half, who was ‘in my face’ in a matter of seconds.
“Bit of a ladies’ man are yer?” he bellowed, somewhat aggressively, I have to say. “Time for a straightener ‘mate’ - you an’ me, on the cobbles - outside now you cant!”
Archer gave me a merciless thumping that had me crying for my mother. I was in hospital for ten days afterwards.
But I want to make it plain that I bear no malice, neither to him, Prescott or Foot. We once took Pride in our strong men who rose up firmly in hard times, standing stiff and proud … before bending the knee, Gay Rights and other assorted foolishnesses took hold of our once-great nation.
Who can forget that immortal scene in Ken Russell’s ‘Women In Love’ when a nude Alan Bates and an equally naked Oliver Reed, their firm bodies gleaming with massage oil, wrestle manfully in front of a cosy hearth, their lissom limbs set a-gleam by the fire’s flickering glow?
These types of manly pursuits are what made Britain Great!”
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krtek a houby
Merry Xmas!
We will fight them on the benches
andysays
Love and solidarity
Couldn't post the following in the Fail’s comments section for some reason, so Urban will have to do instead, a damn poor substitute, but there you go:
“If you ask me, this is just a lot of silly fuss over nothing. Whatever happened to real men settling their differences in robust fashion?
These days, if you’re unfortunate enough to be sat on the Tube adjacent to a mewling, puking toddler, wailing and befouling itself, you can’t even give it a firm clip round the ear any more. Try that now and Sadiq Khan’s BtP stormtroopers will have dragged you off to chokey in an instant.
Nanny state! When I was a cheeky teenager I had a number of run-ins with elected members of parliament who inevitably bested me on account of our size differential. Never did me any harm - indeed, these altercations taught me the meaning of respect.
I well recall an autumn afternoon some time in the 1980s while strolling across Hampstead Heath. Who did I espy ahead of me on the footpath but the former Labour leader Michael Foot!
“Get out of my way you old fool”, I shouted in jocular fashion. “Coffin dodgers like you should remain indoors sucking on a Werthers instead of blocking people’s way”
Well! He certainly didn’t take that kindly; as a vocal supporter of CND and a supposed man of peace I was surprised. The Rt Hon M Foot MP proceeded to belabour me about my head, arms and shoulders with his walking stick, and these were no mean blows, let me tell you. I was aching and bruised for some weeks after, but it taught me a valuable lesson.
Similarly, I was once waiting in a taxi queue in London’s West End after a rather egregious session in a nightclub. I noticed John Prescott MP in the queue behind me, and by way of badinage, and to pass the time, I uttered a few words of harmless banter.
“Get back on your trawler, you unkempt upstart”, I jovially said. “Oafs like yourself who stink of halibut have no place in the Mother of Parliaments - your only useful service to the nation is hauling in the fishing nets to feed your betters - off you trot, you Grimsby goblin”
Goodness me, I was on the ground in a trice! Mr Prescott expertly felled me with a jab-hook combination that would’ve given the great Sugar Ray Robinson pause for thought. That made me choose my words more carefully in future!
And please don’t assume I was some sort of anti-Labour firebrand; I have also been put in my place by more than one eminent Tory. I vividly recall an evening dinner dance at my local Conservative Club. I expect I’d over-imbibed, as was my wont in my younger days, and could sometimes be loose-tongued, especially when it came to paying compliments to the ladies.
Guest of honour that night was best-selling author and Conservative chairman Sir Jeffrey Archer (I suppose these days I had better write ‘chairperson’ in case His Majesty’s Police pay me a visit
While he was busy signing copies of his latest page-turner, I seized the opportunity to whisper a few harmless and endearing bon mots into his fragrant wife’s shell-like. “Wouldn’t mind bending you over the billiards table darling”, I quipped.
She turned a vivid shade of puce and immediately sought her better half, who was ‘in my face’ in a matter of seconds.
“Bit of a ladies’ man are yer?” he bellowed, somewhat aggressively, I have to say. “Time for a straightener ‘mate’ - you an’ me, on the cobbles - outside now you cant!”
Archer gave me a merciless thumping that had me crying for my mother. I was in hospital for ten days afterwards.
But I want to make it plain that I bear no malice, neither to him, Prescott or Foot. We once took Pride in our strong men who rose up firmly in hard times, standing stiff and proud … before bending the knee, Gay Rights and other assorted foolishnesses took hold of our once-great nation.
Who can forget that immortal scene in Ken Russell’s ‘Women In Love’ when a nude Alan Bates and an equally naked Oliver Reed, their firm bodies gleaming with massage oil, wrestle manfully in front of a cosy hearth, their lissom limbs set a-gleam by the fire’s flickering glow?
These types of manly pursuits are what made Britain Great!”
One minor correction, Prescott never worked on a trawler, according to wikipedia
The39thStep
Urban critical thinker
scalyboy
They’re taking the piss now
Noted, cheers
tony.c
Well-Known Member
Strange that he posted antisemitic image as he is a pro-Zionist Labour Friend of Israel.Form for posting conspiraloon antisemitic images too.
Shadow minister apologises 'unreservedly' for sharing antisemitic caricature - Jewish News
Mike Amesbury shared a cartoon of a bearded, jeering hook-nosed Father Christmas from a conspiracy websitewww.jewishnews.co.uk
Is Mike Amesbury A War Criminal?
View the voting record for Mike Amesbury regarding the ongoing Palestinian Genocide.
scalyboy
They’re taking the piss now
He's a bit confused.Strange that he posted antisemitic image as he is a pro-Zionist Labour Friend of Israel.
Is Mike Amesbury A War Criminal?
View the voting record for Mike Amesbury regarding the ongoing Palestinian Genocide.www.mpwarcrimes.co.uk
"That boy's in bother - up here" [taps head]
"He's an ignorant boy - an out-of-date boy"
- to quote Performance, another tale of thuggish men resorting to ultraviolence
Pickman's model
Starry Wisdom
please could you outline the purpose of posting those maps
andysays
Love and solidarity
The two quotes refer to the character played by Lawrence Fox's dear old dad, funnily enough.
The39thStep
Urban critical thinker
scalyboy
They’re taking the piss now
I knew they were related but didn't realise James was 'Lozza's old man. Blimey!
Loozer wouldn't last five minutes doing the sort of method acting preparation his dad undertook to prepare for his role in Performance - extensive weight training and boxing lessons in the gym/ring upstairs at the Thomas A Becket, night-time jaunts over rooftops accompanying a gang of burglars - Loozer would've wet his trews.
Apparently James Fox was so immersed in his role that he went to the production team's offices (to demand some payments he felt were overdue) - but in character as Chas Devlin. He terrified the poor secretarial staff so much that some were in tears. I do think it shows his skill as an actor who was a toff, but could convincingly play a fearsome London gangster. Loozer, I fear, is only fit for roles requiring him to portray coke-addled far-right grifting nobbers. I suppose if he bulked up a bit and learned the Geordie accent, he could play the leading role in Moaty! It's Gazza! - the forthcoming musical about psychopathic mass-murdering doorman Raoul Moat: "they won't let me see me bairns"
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