“Good afternoon. This is IsAC’s Home Affairs Correspondent Ron Knee reporting on the growing scandal concerning the travel expenses of Lindsay Hoyle, Speaker of the House of Commons.

Now as well-versed followers of this site know, the Speaker presides over debates in the House, determining which members may speak, and which amendments are selected for consideration. He is also responsible for maintaining order during debate. A very important role in the work of government we can agree, but specific; this is done within the confines of Westminster. You’d think that there wasn’t much call for the Speaker to venture any great distance in the performance of his duties.

But not so in the case of Mr Speaker Hoyle. Sir Lindsay has itchy feet and likes to get out and about, and by that, I mean further than the Commons’ tea room. Oh yes, much further; so much so that in just two years, he’s taken himself off to such exotic and distant climes as Gibraltar, St Helena and South Africa, Canada, the US, Australia and the Cayman Islands. Nineteen trips in fact, raking up a tab of a cool £250k. in the process.

Naturally we aren’t talking about economy rates here. We’re talking hotels at £900 a night, and swanning around in the likes of the Ritz-Carlton in LA. There’s a five-day knees-up in the Caribbean costing £23k. There’s £4.5k on cars during one visit alone. And let’s not forget the dolphin safari. Yes, we’re talking superior class travel and accommodation all the way. It’s roll out the red carpet for ‘Long-haul Lindsay’, and guess who’s picking up the tab? Why, it’s you and me of course, Joe and Jane Taxpayer. Ironically, the only train that Mr Speaker can be seen boarding is the gravy train.

Funnily enough, Sir Lindsay’s little excursions always seem to be to what might be regarded as highly desirable locations rather than less salubrious destinations around the globe. Funny that. They’re often termed ‘fact-finding trips’, which to me is just Whitehall waffle for ‘junket’. Nice work if you can get it.

‘Ordure! Ordure, Mr Speaker!’ This is Ron Knee, for IsAC, returning you to the studio”.

Daily Fail.

Nominated by : Ron Knee

I don’t know if it’s a side effect of my treatment. But spots have revisted the Norman fizzog for the first time since my teenage years.

Only. they aren’t your common garden traditional pimples. To get rid of one of them was a doddle. A heated pin from my mum’s sewing box and burst the bastard.

The ones that have plagued me of late are what’s known as blind pimples. They form under the skin and have no heads. The fuckers are usually on the chin or the side of the nose. Shiny lumps that don’t half bloody hurt.

And, trying to squeeze one is a nightmare. All you get is a bit of blood, then some clear water-like shit. Attempting to take them out only makes them worse.

Blind pimples are bastards.

Cleveland Clinic.

Nominated by : Norman

Regulars may recall me cunting HM Revenue & Customs recently, for describing their purpose of screwing tax out of us as providing us with a ‘service’. Gee thanks.

Well today I’m pissed off on a related theme, namely, Value Added Tax (VAT). Our roof needs some repair and maintenance work done, and the likely cost is the thick end of £4k if the first estimate is anything to go by.

Now that’s bad news in its own right, but what makes my blood boil is the fact that on top of this, I’ve got to fork out an additional 20% in tax, ie about another £770. That’s right; £770 to the fucking government simply for the ‘privilege’ of keeping a secure roof over our heads.

‘I’ll tax the street, if you try to sit I’ll tax your seat
If you get too cold I’ll tax the heat
If you take a walk I’ll tax your feet
Cos I’m the taxman, and you’re working for no-one but me’
The Beatles, ‘Taxman’

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Great tune Ron and very true C.A.

I think we’ll just pop over to France and get on board a rubber dingy back, then the government will provide a roof over our heads for us, plus all the other things we’ll need to live into the bargain. No fucking worries.

I’m just surprised they haven’t brought a salt tax or window tax back yet. How about a tax on shagging or breathing? A couple of nice little earners there, you’d think.

Born free, taxed to death.

Nominated by Ron Knee.

Christ on a pogo stick, is nothing sacred?

We are now bombarded with gays and lesbians at every fucking opportunity.

This is the latest advertising offering from Great Western Railway.

YouTube.

Enid Blyton’s famous 5, first published in 1942 for the delight of small children everywhere has now become nothing more than a vehicle to promote lesbianism.

This shit must have been signed off by an executive from GWR, so who exactly does he think buys tickets for his railway?
And why would he think that having cartoon children endorsing lesbianism will increase those ticket sales?

Hungary seems to be the only country taking action against this debauchery.
They have banned the annual Pride exhibition and have taken all obvious póófters off the television.

Good! It’s about time that every country did the same.

Nominated by : The Artful Cunter

‘Sir’ Gareth (knighted for not winning the World Cup or the Euros) was blabbering recently about boys not having any role models.

What? Role models like that waste of sapce house breaking drug pushing woman beating bane of police and shopkeepers cunt, Chicken Floyd George? Because Gareth went out of his way to pay tribute to him by taking the knee for this fucker for an absolutely ridiculous amount of time.

Gareth also says that young lads need role models, and shouldn’t be looking at games and porn. Bit late for that, isn’t it? Every young lad since the year dot has indulged in both. The method and the medium changes, but it’s still the same thing. It’s XBox and Spankbang now. For me it was Space Invaders and Mayfair. Escapism and discovering women (OK, wanking) are part of the growing up process. Is Gareth telling us he never dreamed of being Batman or Captain Kirk, or had a crafty five knuckle shuffle over his dad’s Page 3? Because every other lad has done.

Also, Gareth tells us boys should focus on academics and respect, not on money and status.

Errrr…. Hasn’t he been managaing the biggest bunch of overpaid self important indulged and uppity egos in the history of the English game? Inflatable rainbow unicorns in a swimming pool and cunts on three hundred grand a week. Proper people to look up to, eh?

Gareth… Practice what you preach. Bloody hell.

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Nominated by Norman.