Well, life is pretty depressing this morning, with the news that the coppers hired a rapist to trap a sex gang. Yeah, sure, hire a thief to catch a thief, but fucking hell! Is there any wacky, zany madcap news out there which can make life seem a little less bastard well depressing?


So, The Express are no bloody good, with the reminder that a deranged gimp-clown is in charge of a big pile of nukes and is just waiting to start kicking some foreign bottom (depending on where you live, this could refer to Trump, Kim, or both. Actually, both, come to think of it. They’re short, fat, and bluddy well mad!!)

Richard Desmond’s sewer rag turns out to be no help at all, so maybe we could turn to a paper well known for trivial cak and pointless stories about celebs?


Nope. The Star has just reminded me of the empty, yawning vacuity of life, and the fact that this kind of relentless cak makes up most of the viewing choices on today’s TV. I mean, why can’t they have anything thought-provoking and intellectual on the teev anymore, like a documentary about a man who can eat his own head, or a fourteen-hour documentary about puppies playing? Or baby-juggling? With a voice-over by Melvyn Bragg to give it some art-house kudos, obviously.

Well, the Financial Bastard Times might have something unrelated to depressing shit, mental global politics, or celebs slapping each other about?


If you think about it, those words don’t ACTUALLY mean anything. It’s more a random collection of adjectives in search of a subject.

Oh well, back to the usual old depressing cak tomorrow. Gord ‘elp us!

What with the world on the brink of nuclear bonkers-ness due to the insanity of a couple of short, round cretins, The Times give us the sort of headline we’d expect at this juncture.


We have Trump promising ‘fire and fury’ and now, in latest development (at the time of writing before the world gets turned into ash), we have Jong-un Kim retaliating by saying he’s going to lob a nuke at Guam, so what better news source can we turn too than The Daily Telegraph, as they hit us with up to the minute news that, um, stamp duty is ‘killing house sales’.


Hey, no worries, we all know the Torygraph has about 2 journos writing for it these days, now the Barclay Brothers are trying to save cash by firing everyone, so maybe they just put the paper to bed before the news broke.

Instead, let’s turn to the Bastard’s Friend, The Daily Mail. They’ve got a ton of chud monkeys on their payroll. Surely those buggers will have snuck in a headline about ‘BONKERS JONG LOBS TRUMP FURY NUKE BALLS!!’ or something?


Nope. Looks like, despite the looming prospect of mutually assured destruction hanging over the future of civilisation, they’d still rather bang the old bigotry drum and whinge about made-up statistics regarding immigration, such is their want.

Well, with the weight of the national press against the idea of reporting on the end of the world, we can only turn to The Express, with the hope that they’ll OBVIOUSLY come up with the sort of headline which will see Richard Desmond renouncing his knob-end past and receiving the Pulitzer for Best Incisive Headline Into Geo-Global Politics As Seen Through the Eyes of Two Mad Bastards.


Well, yes, who doesn’t like to hear about the weather, eh?

All in all, only The Guardian, Metro, I, and The Times reported on the latest political developments. The rest just ignored it, because – y’know – it’s only international news.

Keep quiet and carry on. And get that Hazmat out from the closet. With Trump and Kim in charge, there’s no telling what the mad fuckers will get up too next.



Fortress Europe: Inside the War Against Immigration by Matthew Carr

Originally when I bought this book the person behind the counter gave me a look which said, “One of them Daily Mail readers, are we?”, and you can understand why from the title. This is not the sort of title – or cover photo (massed crowds with the gendarme in the foreground) – which inspires people to believe the reader is of a left-leaning political viewpoint.

The contents, on the other hand, are a different matter entirely.

You hear so many anti-migrant voices in the world these days, from the clod-hopping arseholes in the right wing press, ramming their uber-race ideology down our throats and promoting an intolerance to anyone of another culture looking for refuge, to the scabby anal warts which propagate on Twatter, slandering migrants as cockroaches and celebrating when a boatload go over, to the mouth-pieces down the pub who posit the idea ‘how do you know they’re not economic migrants’ without once bothering to consider the idea that how do THEY know they’re not. It’s like this proliferation of angry faces all clamouring to see who can be the biggest bastard when it comes to migrancy, whether the cause is economic or as refugees, and you hear so few voices saying “Hold on, ya massive twats. Maybe we should consider what it’s like from their perspective for a bloody change, rather than knee-jerking a reaction just because you don’t like the colour of their skin/where they came from.”

If, like me, you think those anti-migrant fuckers should clam the fuck up and fuck back off to bastard land where a suppurating, bigoted arse spawned them, then this is the book for you! (Let’s see that quote on the dust jacket!)

It’s divided into two halves, with one half showing the reaction of Europe against migrants, and how their restrictive and bigoted actions go against a charter they themselves drew up, and the second half which takes you through the various routes, trials, tribulations and shite the migrants have to put up with just to get from one country to another.

It’s one of those books which leaves you stunned at the amount of deaths which are reported, which would only be the tip of the iceberg. We’re talking thousands each week. And then there’s the despicable way migrants are treated when they reach Europe, and the bigoted and racist reaction from the society they come into, pushed by xenophobic governments small-minded, jingoistic national media which seek to demonise.

The first draft of the book was written between 2010 to 2014, which was before the full impact of the Syrian conflict had taken effect on the European mainland. A postscript for the updated version talks of the surge of nationalism which is sweeping Europe. But, thank fuck, it offers some notes of solace, about how some of the population of Europe has banded together to help migrants, regardless of the position of the Powers That Be. It’s a small shining light in the midst of a massive dark cavern full of hate, but it’s better than nothing.

A very effecting, thought provoking book.

A couple of good ones this morning, especially from The Scum, who appear to insist that the ghost of Diana has come back from the Great Beyond to curse vengeance upon Charles and Camilla. In actual fact, it’s just a couple of tapes where she’s noted as not being best pleased about her hubby at the time hoying it up Camilla, which is fair enough. The best part of it is the opening line ‘Royal experts say Princess Di has struck from beyond the grave’, which is just fucking mental! By ‘royal experts’ they obviously mean Wanking Phil from behind the skip who seems unusually obsessed with Diana’s corpse.


And speaking of mental, it’s up to The Arsepress to present one of their ‘not actually news’ news headline this morning, with the shock horror revelation that not being a lazy bastard in your twilight years is probably a good thing. I also find that not smoking 50 fags a day, drinking 8 litres of whisky and mainlining crack is also a good way to beat of Alzheimer’s. And death. I imagine tomorrow’s headline will be ‘Scientists prove not slamming nuts in fridge door will make gonads less painful’.


And finally, the young are scary – official. We know this become some crusty old, cob-web laden duffer from GCHQ has reminded all the coffin dodgers at The Telegraph that all them young’uns are using The Interweb, which Torygraph readers have no concept of and are thus a-feared of it, and the only way to save the country from rampant armies of zombie-eyed children attacking each other with emojis and spam-knives is to SHUT THE WHOLE THING DOWN!! Or at least restrict whipper-snappers from using it, as it’s destroying their brain and ability to listen to Val Doonican records. It will also ‘save the country’. In what capacity and how is not explained.


In tomorrow’s headline, why sticking kids up chimneys is good for the economy.


After a short break, The Corner IS BACK! Bigger! Brighter! Swearier! With more ‘V’s flicked at newspapers than EVER BEFORE!

Well, in actual fact it’s the same old cak, but from tomorrow The Corner will be swearing about a wider range of topics rather than just the right wing political gonads the main papers knock out. F’rinstance, The Daily Arsepress usually knock out some old todge about nutty health schemes with no scientific basis, so they’ll be getting a kicking. The Mirror recently published some old Diana tosh, so it’s a chucklesome boot to the head for them buggers as well, if they should choose to stir my wrath! FOR I AM THE GOD OF TRUTH, AND ALL SHALL TREMBLE BEFORE MY FURY!! Not that I’m egotistical or anything…

Anyway, only one culprit today, and it’s those old mirth-bastards The Express. In today’s shit-heap it’s back to their favourite subject – hating the EU, and their scurrilous demands that the UK cough up the moolah they borrowed from them in the first place. They’re not just going “Yeah, fack off, Blighty – if you don’t want to play in our footie team anymore you’ll have to stump up some major trousers, know what I mean, you slaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaags!” No, this is money owed to them.


As per usual the normal slate of Tory MPs are up in arms and ready to engage in a bit of jingoistic bollocks, just so they can show Johnny Punter that they should vote for the small-minded arse-cakes next time an election looms. There’s some old horse-shit about senior backbenchers futilely shaking their weakling fists at the machinations of government, but basically it’s a load of old badger’s wang. Just another chance for Desmond to vent his spleen at the idea of being a multicultural society and being stronger through the union of countries which spent a good few years of the last century lobbing bombs at each other rather than negotiating.



keep calm


If someone had come up to yesterday and said, “Hey! Guess what!? The shittiest arsehole in the world is going to man-love itself all over democracy, then my first answer would be ‘What is Donald Trump up to today?” And you know what? Donald Trump has been fucking shit up again. But not in a Dead Kennedy’s way – more in a Ted Nugent way.

Trump is a festering mound of anal sores. Ted Nugent is another pile of festering anal sores. If they ever got together and did The Love Monkey – which they will do, because they both love meaty bells – there is no science fiction in the world which could imagine what hideous prodigy would emerge from their unholy lust.

To all the Sortitaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaht peeps out there, apologies for being away for 5 days. But now I’m back. Let’s RIP THE SHIT OUT OF RIGHT WING DICKS!!

Obviously the news of Scaramonger’s exit from the White House has caused all the tabloids to go into crazy-ape mental panic, as the BBC website and Kiosk are still running the previous day’s headlines rather than todays, suggesting that all the papes scrapped their usual old rubbish to concentrate on the latest giftings from Clown School Academy.

This leaves Sortitaht in the unfortunate position of having nothing to report on, as there is no visual representation for me to flick the proverbial ‘V’s at. And it’s way too early to knock out 500 words on the whole hilarity issue of someone who treats Gordon Gekko and Patrick Bateman as role models being summarily ejected from the job as Communications Spod who has absolutely no idea what communications are, how to communicate, or why it’s not acceptable to start hurling shite around when you’ve only been in the job for 10 days (5 days officially).

It goes back to the essential cluelessness of the current administration, and shall be covered in a later edition of Sortitaht – probably with lots of swears and name-calling, especially of Scaramunga, who’s slickness resembles a big, shiny turd in a wig.

So here’s a piccie of the next White House Communications Director: