Conspiracy corner

So the King of Pop is no more. Yes, Michael Jackson has died at the age of 50. Many people will be very sad today, not least those who may not get their money back for tickets they bought for the UK gigs. But what is the real story here? I am starting to hear the rumours already…

He was under a lot of pressure over these gigs, he had huge debts and was basically in big trouble. But what to do? Go ahead with a punishing tour and hope that all will come good? …Or appear to die? He had to have a four hour medical checkup to get insurance for the tour and was given a clean bill of health. What’s that all about then?

I put it to you that the King of Pop is living on an island in the Pacific – a very special island. This is the island where the wealthy, famous and infamous go when they want to disappear.

Quite an interesting place to visit, if only we could find it. Richie Edwards from the Manic Street Preachers is there, living two doors down from Elvis. The Bin Ladens run a little kebab empire on the island, and Marc Bolan organises whist drives in the Town Hall. They have welcomed their new arrival with open arms and are already building a small stage for him to perform on.

You read it here first!

Recession Clarity

Y’know, I reckon this recession is just what we all needed. It was either this or a good war, and personally I’m glad we went for the recession. So why is it so good? Well, look at all the things it has brought to the surface? They are things we all knew already, but now we have been forced to confront them.

Politicians are on the fiddle, big bankers are as bent as a nine-bob note and nothing short of very highly paid criminals. Celebrities are largely talentless retards and anyone earning a salary above a certain figure is on the make.

A simple truth in life is that if you are earning £12,000 a year, you will not be able to buy your own home, buy fancy clothes or eat like a King. You will rent your home (at great cost) from some bastard who owns loads of them. You will not be claiming expenses or looking forward to big bonuses.

Now, if you earn in the region of £150,000++ and up and up and up,  you will have a nice home (or two), a swish car, wear the best suits and eat at the Fat Duck. But also, the wages of that woman who cleans your house, the bill for the guy who services your car and the cost of the meal can all go on ‘expenses’.  And that’s before you’ve received the annual bonuses and other perks that probably triple your salary anyway. Who are these people? Just go to a City bar and watch the champagne corks popping – yes, the word is – bonuses are back!

The excuse made by their employers is that they are the best of the best and they have to pay top whack to keep them. But often, these are just people who have, over the years, worked their way into this position, through schmoozing, luck, cheek and sheer front. They are just pen-pushers and managers, nothing more. Sack all the bastards tomorrow, re-advertise their jobs for a much lower, more sensible salary, with no daft expenses and bonuses. I reckon those posts would be filled quickly by people who could probably do the job twice as good because they wouldn’t be spending half their time on the make.

The thing is, that we all sit back and accept that all this is going on all around us and do nothing about it. We elect one incompetent, smug politician into office after another. Look at what is happening in Iran at the moment – the people are mightily pissed off and they are angry enough to do something about it. What the hell will it take to make US angry??

Come on – get out on the streets – pick up that baseball bat! – grab that pitchfork! – light those flaming brands!! What we need is an Angry Mob Revolution!!

It won’t do any good of course, but I reckon we would all feel better for it.

A tip for Gordon

I was amazed this week by the amount of coverage that Barack Obama got in the news for swatting a fly. Even the Guardian covered it with a full page spread, with an added guide to the ’science of fly-swatting’. It seems to have done Mr Obama no harm at all and everyone is impressed by his speed and accurate aim.

Now Barack Obama is already in a place of great popularity so has no need of this sort of character boosting publicity. But our poor Prime Minister, Gordon Brown is another kettle of fish altogether. He is currently slightly less popular than being slapped about the face with a plastic bag full of shit, that has been dipped in rancid chip-fat, wielded by Anne Widdecombe in the nude, with Rupert Murdoch sitting on her shoulders in a monkey costume.

However, maybe Gordon could take a leaf out of Obama’s book. Next time he is being interviewed on TV, we could arrange for a Rottweiler to attack him, attempting to stick its slavering jaws around his leg. Imagine how impressed we would all be if Gordon reached down, grabbed the savage beast, hauled it up and strangled it before our wide-open eyes and dropping jaws?

What a guy! This is the man who should be running this country! How did I ever doubt it?

Think about it Gordon…