The Angry Exile: Go go Gorbals Mick.

The Hangman

Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame in the courthouse square.
The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.
And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime
That the Hangman judged with the yellow twist
of knotted hemp in his busy fist.
And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead --
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raised the gallows-tree?"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."
And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief
And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.
The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air
Was the gallows-tree in the courthouse square.
And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and business-like.
And we cried, "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday, with the foreign one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed,
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."
He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch a rope when the rope is new."
Then one cried "Murder!" and one cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"with him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"
And he laid his hand on that one's arm.
And we shrank back in quick alarm!
And we gave him way, and no one spoke
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.
That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
The gallows-tree had taken root;
Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.
The third he took -- we had all heard tell --
Was a usurer, and an infidel.
"What," said the Hangman "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"
And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
to try the strength of the gallows-beam."
The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
"And what concern," he gave us back.
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"
The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said. "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."
And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score.
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.
The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.
Then through the town the Hangman came,
Through the empty streets, and called my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall,
And thought, "There is no one left at all
For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
So I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.
He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town.
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.
And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap --
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.
"You tricked me. Hangman!," I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman. Foully lied!"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true --
The scaffold was raised for none but you.
For who has served me more faithfully
Then you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others who might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"
"Dead," I whispered. And amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the foreigner, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."
Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None had stood so alone as I.
The Hangman noosed me, and no voice there
Cried "Stop!" for me in the empty square.

Maurice Ogden

Tuesday 12 May 2009

Go go Gorbals Mick.

Just fucking go, you feckless fat cunt.

Again, the revolting persistence in ducking responsibility and instead blaming the system and the rules or, as Gorbals Mick is doing in the second video here, blaming the source of the leak for exposing the venal shites. And did you notice the murmurs of 'hear, hear' as the twat carried on blaming the leaker instead of the cunts around him for creating something worth leaking in the first place? Still incapable of seeing anything wrong in what they did. For fuck's sake, it's like kids stealing pick & mix from Woolworths blaming the shop for leaving the sweets out where anyone can take them - kids would know that it's fucking wrong and wouldn't, so why don't MPs seem to understand that they themselves are the ones most to blame for the shit they're in? And why is Gorbals Mick incapable of spelling that out to them? Maintaining the dignity of the house? My puckered ringpeice!

And that's aside from the much reported breach in the convention that the Speaker doesn't have slanging matches with MPs. But who's surprised? Without doubt the worst Speaker they've ever had, and since he's also one of the troughing cunts if there's any fucking justice he'll be the first head to roll.

UPDATE: More on Mick at The Telegraph.

UPDATE 2: Kate Hoey replies to Gorbals Mick (my bold)

I was halfway though a sentence about how wrong I felt it was that the authorities had called in the overstretched Metropolitan Police to hide the misdemeanours of some MPs, who have stretched their expenses way beyond anything that could be interpreted as within the spirit of the rules, when for some reason Mr Speaker stopped me in mid-sentence and gave me a severe ticking-off for having said exactly that when I was interviewed on radio and television over the weekend.
...
Football fans may have recognised Mr Speaker's reaction to the point I was trying to make: a hectoring response reminiscent of the manager who, out of loyalty to his team, indignantly attacks a referee's decision.
But Speaker Martin isn't meant to be the manager – he's meant to be the referee. His role is to defend the Commons, not blindly defend the actions of MPs on either side of any argument, least of all one where the public's view has been made so very clear.
...
I can't help but reflect on how differently this would all have been handled by Speaker Martin's predecessor, Betty Boothroyd. She always managed to be firmly in control and in the driving seat. On this issue, the public perception is that if this driver is in control, we are being driven the wrong way up a one-way street.
I received one letter from a constituent who had applied to the social fund for the money to buy a bed and mattress for her one and only home. She had just been told she could have the bed, but not the mattress. It doesn't take much imagination to understand how someone like that – and many, many others like her – feels when they hear about MPs being given thousands for barbecues, chandeliers and other luxuries.
If I want a cleaner, I should have to pay for it like any member of the public. If I fear for my safety, I should go to the police, not get thousands from the taxpayer to have a personal security guard.
The public has every right to feel angry, and the Speaker seemed to be oblivious to that.

As I said before it looks like Kate Hoey understands the difference between getting every penny you can milk out and getting back just what you've had to spend. The latter is reimbursement, the former is fucking fraud.