Andy's Glasses

Well, its good to know that our esteemed government learn from their mistakes. Having totally cocked up Zac Goldsmith’s mayoral campaign by using an endless stream of negativity, doomsday fiction and speculative association to try and impugn the main opposition, that opposition triumphed royally. And still the government maintained that the campaign was a righteous one. Taking cheap shots at ‘the Muslim’ because its so easy to do. Sadiq Khan is a Muslim, let’s invoke images of ISIS, of 9/11 and make him guilty by association. Great idea.

But more than just not learning from this horrendous mistake, they’ve decided to adopt a similar strategy in the in/out Euro debate. Invoking the doomsday scenario.

Cameron has moved from tales of economic woes should we leave Europe, going so far as to have puppet chancellor calculate precisely how much each and every household will have to cough up upon departure, even though no-one has a fucking clue, onto really serious matters.

War.

Europe is the only thing preventing the French going to war with Italy, the Greeks attacking the Dutch, Germany invading everywhere. So, our PM maintains, the risk of war would be greatly increased by our departure. Britain’s security depends upon our continued membership to the EU. If we leave we will be attacked. Nukes will come. Destroying Burnley for the next 50 years (not altogether a bad thing), Milton Keynes levelled, YOUR GRANDCHILDREN WILL BE BORN WITH 3 HEADS AND JUST ONE LEG, WHICH WILL BE ON TOP OF THE MIDDLE HEAD!!!!!

The worst thing about all this is that it is terribly, awfully, horrendously patronising. It says that the government don’t actually trust us with any real, subtle or concrete information, so instead they play to our fears and worries. Just as they did in the mayoral race. “Just put the frighteners on”, they appear to say, “that’ll get them onside in no time”.

Then up steps Boris, the ex-mayor and still current clown-in-chief, to turn the tables and blame the EU for the Russian invasion (call it ‘annexation’, call it ‘intervention’ but its an invasion and nothing less) of the Ukraine. But to show how much he ‘loves Europe’ he sang a song. He sang a fucking German song, in German. Beethoven. Tosser. That’s like me saying that I love Korean food therefore I must be a big fan of Kim Jong Un.

But worst of all is that we DIDN’T WANT A SODDING REFERENDUM. We’re unqualified to make such a decision. And if we were ill informed at the beginning of this mess, we’re way worse off now.

And I’m still undecided.

Happy Tuesday from, currently, inside the EU

A xxxx

What are the best things in the world? Many answers are acceptable, as long as Arsenal isn’t one, nor anything to do with snakes, financial products, anything unnatural involving animals, olives (I hate olives) or Jeremy Corbyn.

But right near the top of my list must be football and food. And, other than alliterative links, they can often be found together.

So we went, did Rachie & I, to Spurs yesterday to ‘enjoy’ (fuck me, it was horrible) the last home match of the season. In fact the last home match at my beloved White Hart Lane, as next season half of the East Stand won’t be there as stage one of the rebuild for the new stadium. And we went to be corporately entertained in a box. Ooooohhhh, that’s posh.

And oddly, it is posh. I’ve been to boxes at the Lane before but never quite appreciated how ‘different’ the whole experience is from ‘real football’. The main one being that at normal football you are treated with contempt, as a potential criminal, a hooligan, a troublemaker, just one bottle of medium strength lager from being thrown out. You are shepherded through dingy tunnels and dirty concrete-floored corridors to your ‘pen’. Where you sit and try your hardest to act like a normal member of society. If you need a toilet, without being too graphic, its not a particularly lovely experience.

In corporate world, things are different. You enter the ‘executive’ doorway to be greeted by seemingly hundreds of smartly dressed ladies and gents, with a courteous ‘good morning, Sir, hope you enjoy the game’. There are carpets everywhere, artwork… well, great big posters of Gary Linneker, Paul Gascoine, Jurgen the German, Stevie Perryman and many other superstars of Tottenham-land. You are escorted to the box, where you have your own servant. He stayed with us to bring us food and drink and to encourage us to gamble on match stats. That’s his job. So you eat. And drink. And be (very very) merry. When the match started I was happy to just sit there and eat more. It was good. And abundant. The toilets on ‘executive level’ are either nicer or executives can piss straighter than normal fans. But out I went (itself a great thing as my previous experiences in a ‘box’ there were of the sealed and unopening variety which is horrid) and watched the game.

Which started brilliantly and, as per our recent matches, petered out rather rapidly. So our early lead had turned to a 1-1 scoreline at half time. Never mind; go back inside, there more food!!!! Deserts, coffee, ice creams, buscuits, wine, beer…

Comfort eating, they call it. When you’re feeling depressed, just throw a few thousand calories down your gullet and all feels well again. For a little while at least. Then Southampton scored what was to be the winning goal. I ran back inside, needing to eat. Only fruit left, cheese and biscuits, ice-creams, ok, quite a lot really. But not enough to overcome the reality that we’d fucking lost a fucking game again and second-place is hanging on by a mere two points. So requiring a draw at very lowly and possibly totally desperate Newcastle next weekend in the Grand Finale.

The post match ‘parade of stars’ summed it up perfectly. The players came out, with their gorgeous little kids, did a lap of the pitch and they tried to invoke a ‘party atmosphere’. It was like a wedding party when the bride’s already done a runner but they have the party anyway; its paid for.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

Helen Wood is a prostitute. A ‘good one’. Though I don’t speak from personal experience. I’d never heard of her (honest!) until Tuesday when it was revealed that she’d had sex with an actor. Wow. That’s big news (yawn, yawn). Well, it would have been big news except the actor, ‘PJS’, as he’s known, or as he’s unknown, more appropriately, took out a superinjunction, in 2010, when the alleged sexage occurred, to keep it out of the papers. Where it would doubtless have appeared in the ‘who gives a shit?’ column, except in the Mail Online where it would have been on the front page.

Helen’s a ‘good’ hooker because she charges £195 (not sure if there’s vat on that) as opposed to 25 quid from a King’s Cross crack-whore as favoured by MPs. So she must be good. But in fact she’s a good person too. Yup, it can happen. Because she has unreservedly apologised for having sex with this married actor. She had no idea. Would never want to hurt the family of PJS.

She’s a hooker. She doesn’t insist on a questionnaire of appropriateness before ‘doing her job’. She’s not there to make moral judgments on the acceptability of her client. You pay her, you have sex, you go home. End of.

She also apologised, almost with the same words, after being ‘engaged’ by Wayne Rooney. So sorry, he was a married man, blah, blah, wouldn’t want to hurt the family, feel terrible for Colleen, blah, blah.

Did she not know who Wayne was then? The man who’s spent half his life on the front and back pages of the papers? Always on the news, on tv, on everything. Unfortunately.

But why apologise? Its really not part of her job description. Its like the barman apologising to the family of a man who staggered home drunk. He’s just doing his job. The blame lies with the drunk.

Or with the person cavorting with prostitutes. The pro is not to blame. And apologising just make it all stupid. All her clients are married.

I’m over the elections. Sadiq Kahn is our mayor. Yippee. A Labour mayor, which is inherently wrong for London, but there ya go. Serves the conservatives right for firstly selecting the dullest man in the world as mayoral candidate, and then using the worst possible ‘strategy’ of trying to discredit the opposition. A tosser tragically mismanaged by a bunch of other tossers.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

This is a nice photo. For you information, the proper ‘wet fish’ is on the left. The other is Zac Goldsmith. A lot of people couldn’t work that out, so its just for clarification. I’m not sure which one I’d rather see as mayor of London, once the votes are counted.

But before they’re counted they have to be cast.

Mel & I went to vote yesterday morning at about 8. There was a queue. And a woman wearing a lanyard looking flustered calling out whether those there had their polling cards. Fortunately we did. If I’d been on my own I wouldn’t have, but that’s why we keep little curly people around. They’re great organisers.

‘There’s been a bit of a problem’, lanyard said. ‘They’ve sent the wrong polling lists’. Oh. So if you haven’t got your polling card and you’re not on the list, you ain’t gonna vote. We weren’t on the list. So the guy scribbled our names on and the numbers from our polling cards and we voted.

But taking polling cards to vote is not a requirement. Loads of people don’t bother. Why would they? Giving people their right to vote is a requirement. Not only that, its the fundamental right in a democracy. If you live in Saudi Arabia you don’t get to vote. No point. The Sheikh won about 19 generations ago. Live in Egypt and they give you a vote, then shoot the guy who won and put their own guy back in charge. The guy with the biggest gun. In America they let you vote but they let orange-faced, combed-over tossers into the fray.

Emily Pankhurst died to give me the vote. I’m gonna bloody vote.

Yet I live in the borough of Barnet. And that’s where the problem was. Barnet. People who have but one job, to send out ‘voting lists’ fucking failed. They have had 4 years to get the lists right for this election, and then ‘ooops’, shit, I sent the wrong list. Never mind. We’ll sort it out on the day. Fortunately the polling cards (which lots of people don’t bring) were sent from the right list. Database malfunction. Tosser malfunction, more like.

They did sort the problem but not for about 4 hours. By which time lots of people hadn’t been given their opportunity to vote and couldn’t do it later.

And I’m not generally a conspiracy theorist but Barnet happens to be the borough with the highest Jewish population in London. Its our ghetto. Ok, its quite a pretty ghetto, but its safe to say that a high proportion would not be voting for anyone remotely Labour, following recent events. So if you are a Labour person, cocking up Barnet, of all the boroughs, could be seen as something of an advantage.

What a fucking mess.

They’re still counting. Will it be the ‘closet jihadi’ or the wet fish? Watch this space.

Happy Friday

A xxxx

On the first day God created the Heaven and the Earth. On the second day He (or she?) created crawling things; slugs, worms, Arsenal fans, lizards. On the third day… And on the fifth day He stopped to vote. Ok there was a sixth day for something else, and a seventh day was declared the sabbath; the day of rest, tennis, tai chi and football. Amen. Genesis Ch. 1.

Why do we always vote on thursdays? Where’s it written? But we do. We dutifully trudge down to the polling station at our local primary school and get our voting forms and we vote.

Today it was for the London Assembly, (like we give a shit), the local council (all worthless) and the London Mayor. The new Boris. Who is going to replace the most famous blond since Debbie Harry? The gobbiest, out-of-Europist, brash, funny and most intensely annoying mayor we’ve ever had. Ken Livingstone was brash and annoying but never funny or in any way endearing.

Ok, its not like I didn’t know until this morning that there was going to be an election and had no clue who was standing. They’ve been banging on about it for a year. Or more. But I’ve been waiting for inspiration. Not my own, but something in any of the candidates to show me they have some worth, maybe some integrity, perhaps some virtue that they could bring to this most fabulous of all cities, to enhance it. To bring something special to the game.

I waited in vain. They’re all fucking worthless. And the two main (if not ‘two only’) candidates have wasted the entire campaign insulting and abusing each other and thus managing to ignore anything that may be considered ‘an issue’. Yeah, they bang on about housing, “I’m going to build 50,000 new homes every year!!” shrieks Sadiq Kahn, labour puppet and, in case you missed it the first 9,783 times he said it: ‘the son of a bus driver’. “Well I’m going to build 51,000 new homes each year!!!!!” moans Zak Goldsmith, Tory pretty-boy squillionaire, who could probably pay for such a thing out of his own ‘loose change’ in his pockets.

They have to say that. London has a housing crisis. Build houses. That’s easy. Less easy is the ‘where you put them’ question, but you don’t win elections by creating problems. You win elections by bringing the opposing candidates into disrepute. Apparently.

And then I did have inspiration. I realised how lucky I am to be in Britain. Because if I was American I’d be a part of the Donald Trump machine. Even as a reluctant detractor, he’d have some effect on my life. Awful. I saw this picture on the front page of today’s paper and thought at first it was just an advert for a new cosmetic surgery clinic. Then I realised it was the Orange One making it to the Grand Final of American politics.

Back in London, Zak-baby pushes his ‘green’ issues. Always has. Unusual for a Tory, they’re normally only into ‘green’ if its on the back of non-sequential dollar bills. Zac wants to clean up the City and ‘punish gas guzzlers’. That did it for me. We don’t have a constitutional right to bear arms here. But we do have a right to pollute the atmosphere with inappropriate motorised vehicles.

God bless… yeah, whatever

Happy voting day

A xxxx

The City of Leicester is in a state of ‘bonkers’. The whole place. There’s nothing much else to do there so you might as well do that bonkers thing. And ‘bonkers’ is good. Its the nice side of mob rule, the happy bit. Blue and white wigs, blue-and-white face paint, pretty much anything blue and white will enhance the whole bonkers thing greatly. So while your league-winning team are having a team lunch in a local Italian, you stand round outside, probably getting really hungry and… errr… and wait for them to finish. That’s what you do. “They’re all in there” goes the thought, “so we’re out here! And its brilliant. Its as if… errr… well, they’re all in there. Eating! Brilliant!!” Said Doris Maythorpe, 74, a ‘lifelong Leicester fan’. Since March’.

But you know what: if it was Spurs, I’d do it. Je suis Doris Maythorpe. I’d wait outside the kebab shop where the team were having their celebration lunch and just wait. And wait. And wait. How long does it take to eat a kebab, for fuck’s sake?

Leicester were promoted to the Premiership in 2014, having won the Championship. They had an indifferent first season and by February of 2015 were sunk at the bottom of the table, loads of points adrift from the pack. Hopeless. Gone. But…

But they started to put a few wins together. Which itself was a far greater achievement than winning those same games this year from the top of the table. Losing is a mind-set and becomes a habit. Winning is too. But when you’re bottom of the pile, its very hard to pull free. Yet they did.

Basically they haven’t stopped winning since. Under Claudio Ranieri they found a new belief. And the same team that languished at the bottom were invigorated by the Italian’s something or other. Jamie Vardy was just an ordinary zombie, eating the flesh of humans, working in a dirty place when he was spotted by Leicester. Riyadh Mahrez was home in Marakesh training to be a snake-charmer when Leicester scooped him up and made him player of the year. So the legends will grow. The whole team cost less than a pizza.

I personally ‘blame’ the owner. The club was bought in 2010 by a Thai billionaire for just under 40 million quid. What can now be termed ‘a bargain’. Somewhat. Next years income will start at £150mil. Curiously though, the team’s fortune really turned when the owner changed his name. Something Thais apparently do, with royal blessing. So he became Mr Srivaddhanaprabha. He wanted something catchy that just slipped off the tongue. If you put that on a football shirt, at 85p a letter, you’d go bankrupt. But he did that in 2012 and the rest is (in the process of becoming) history.

Bookies will no longer be offering very long odds. 5000 to 1 on Leicester? Those days are done, said a man from Corals. So if you fancy a punt on Burnley to win the league next year, better place your bet early otherwise you’ll only get 5 to 1. Bookies don’t like losing. They like YOU losing.

Happy Leicester day (one of many to come)

A xxxx

Iss’a funny ole game…

So we’re not going to win the league this year. I’ve not really been under any illusions that we would. Since the first home game of the season when we threw away a 2 goal lead to allow Stoke back in the game. Since we lost at home to Newcastle. And since we failed to see out the win last week against West Brom. And I’m always a little pessimistic where football’s concerned. Don’t know why, I’m not generally a pessimistic person, but football, Spurs, winning things… its hard.

But the season has been more than brilliant. Its been magnificent. We have a quite amazing team filled with unsung heroes. Though the songs are being sung a little louder lately than they previously were. We’ve played with assurance, with confidence, with amazing style and grace all year. Its been a joy to watch. And results. We’ve had fantastic results from games we’d previously have had no chance. We’re resilient, strong and have a team spirit matched only by that of Leicester.

And we’ve been good boys. Strong but clean. We’ve kept tempers in check, been physically assertive but never dirty.

Until last night. As if all the violence missed out on in the previous 35 games had all been saved up, put into storage. And allowed to grow. Last night it just exploded.

Personally, I can think of no team more worthy of having the shit (literally) kicked out of them than Chelsea. But there’s a price to pay. 8 yellow cards for Spurs players. How all 11 were still on the pitch at the end of the game is as much miracle as mystery. At half time, when we were winning and relatively happy, I wrote a text to send to assorted Spurs fans which read: “if this finishes with all 22 on the pitch, I’m an anti-semite”. But the message wouldn’t send. So I’ll not be forced to join the Labour Party after all. However, all 22 players needed to be there so the fighting which continued down the tunnel and into the dressing rooms could be evenly matched.

Chelsea were aggressively niggly, Diego Costa, pantomime-Dame extraordinaire in particular, no surprise there. But early on Danny Rose and Kyle Walker were guilty of tackles/GBH that would normally have been carded by the ref. But heh, its a London derby, let’s try and control it before waving cards around like the guys at Heathrow who guide the pilots into dock. All credit to Mark Clattenberg for trying to keep the match going.

As the FA examine the footage today, particularly the stuff the ref missed (he’s only got one pair of eyes and there were flare-ups all over the place), I don’t expect to see Eric Lamela or Mousa Dembele on the pitch for my team again this season. How Eric Dier wasn’t sent off for his second offence (in about 60 seconds) is also a modern-day miracle. Pochettino himself could face action for coming onto the pitch, but as it was only to separate Danny Rose and Willian, he may be forgiven. If he’d come on to kill someone he’d get a sideline ban.

The good (two fantastic goals by Spurs), the bad (two goals for Chelsea) and the ugly (the last 10 minutes of Tarantino-football).

Let’s not let the upset and insanity of last night mar a truly wonderful season. We need to get it together for the last 2 games. There are other teams in the league besides Spurs and Leicester.

And sincere congratulations to Leicester and in particular to the wonderful and lovable Claudio Ranieri. What an amazing achievement. Money is not yet everything in football. Not quite.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

Ahhh, the MayDay holiday today, even though official ‘mayday’ was officially yesterday. Officially. So rather than hurling bricks at Goldman Sachs and setting fire to various Starbucks, the normal Mayday rioters took to Clerkenwell to listen to the great Jeremy Corbyn address the masses. I’d rather paint a wall. So I did. In Mel’s study. With virtually no police presence around.

And there was JC, in his element, surrounded by red flags and, apparently, people holding aloft images of Stalin. Oh, that’s nice.

I could understand perhaps, if you’re almost off-the-scale to the left, revering Mao Tse Tung. Lenin. Maybe Castro. Certainly Che Guevara. But Stalin?? Firstly he was dog ugly; always the most important consideration when passing judgment on political leaders, and secondly, he killed so many millions of Russians, and imprisoned so many millions more in ‘labour camps’ that actual numbers remain unknown to this day. Unlike Stalin’s neighbours, the Nazis, he didn’t make the mistake of keeping meticulous records of all names, dates, numbers. Some things are best not recorded.

And this is the man deified by Corbyn’s mates. The most brutal tyrant the world has ever known. Including Hitler. The most total totalitarian ever. His political style was not so much ‘my way or the highway’ as ‘my way or the FUCKING CEMETERY’. He considered no opposition. Such actions would be deemed treason, anti-party, anti-Russian and dealt with rather severely.

And this is Corbyn’s aspirational leader. Which in a way puts into context the ‘great progressive’, the great ‘man of the people’ (Jeremy, not Joseph) his adherence to all bad people in the world he can find. The IRA, Hamas, as long as you can claim more than 100 murders, JC’s your man.

More importantly, Leicester City are one point away from the league title. One which I really can’t begrudge them. For the people of Leicester it is quite a magical moment in history. I’ve been to Leicester; fucking awful place. Give them something to relieve the misery of living in the East Midlands. Surely some of them must deserve it?

And magical it will be (because it is quite inevitable now). A fairy tale. Even though football is the most homophobic place in the modern world outside Riyadh.

But I don’t want them to win it tonight. And only a win for Spurs at Chelsea can prevent it, or at least, delay it til the weekend. For numerous reasons I want my team to win tonight. The main one being based on a philosophical point that I FUCKING HATE CHELSEA!!!!! and all the other reasons being rather less intellectually based.

Happy Monday (oh let it be so, per-leaeaeaease)

A xxxx

The world is being divided. Round here it is, anyway. Not just between the anti-semites and the good people, but so much division. And its bad. Its… divisive.

The Labour Party is now totally divided over the Ken Livingstone ‘shit’. If he’s thrown out of the party for his comments, the left will be in uproar. If he isn’t, the right will. Either way, one thing’s for sure: Ken won’t apologise. Ever, about anything substantial. And I don’t know why this lack of apology for saying disgraceful things is such a surprise that its front page news. Ken was suspended from being Mayor ‘back in the day’ for telling a (Jewish, son of holocaust-survivors) journalist that he was like a ‘concentration camp guard’. No, wouldn’t apologise. Not Ken. He was and is a tosser-of-principle. Which is like being a man of principle but one that’s always wrong. In principle.

Then there’s Arsenal. The Wenger debate is heating up as it does every season at about this time when the Arsenal ‘loyal’ realise it really hasn’t been so great a season, even with 87% of possession. So one half of the Emirates during last night’s game was holding up banners calling for Wenger to leave, with some going so far as to state this a reason for a Brexit from Europe, so Wenger and other smelly French people would no longer have rights to work here. The other half proclaimed its eternal devotion to ‘the Professor’, and we’ll call those fans ‘the ostriches’ for having their little red-and-white heads buried so far in the turf. So its divided.

Europe? Divisive. Terribly. Much as the Labour party is split over its unwanted left-turn since Corbyn arrived with McDonell, Goebels et al, so the Conservatives may not recover from the stupid European referendum. If we leave Cameron will simply have to go. If we stay, what happens to Boris? To Michael Gove? To all the Brexiteers?

So now they’re debating the video of the Queen being funny and relaxed and natural with Harry in the company of the the Obamas. Honestly, the Queen fraternising with black people; whatever next? Oh, no, what they’re saying is that its ‘unbecoming’ for her to be seen basically, having fun and being relaxed. Well fuck ’em. After 90 years of totally committed stiffness, formality and impeccably perfect behaviour, Her Maj is entitled to let her guard down for 4 minutes on youtube.
I can’t behave properly for 4 minutes out of every year; give her a break.

Only Spurs are undivided. We stand united, together and solid. We love each other and have no issues we can’t cope with. Not Chelsea, not Leicester, nothing. Even without Dele Alli, we will go marching on. As one. Amen.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

Throughout history the Jews have existed so that the rest of the world has someone to blame. For all the shit that goes wrong; the Jew(s) did it. Whatever ‘it’ may be. So they were persecuted throughout most of biblical time by various versions of Egyptians, Canaanites, Assyrians, whoever was around and could wield a big stick. They were persecuted in Europe, repeatedly invited in to Spain, Portugal, Italy, Prussia, France, then kicked out again all through the middle ages (or the ‘Yiddle Ages’ as we called them). Britain too. Henry the this allowed the Jews to come and trade, William the that kicked ’em out. In Russia and Poland they institutionalised anti-semitism almost to an industrial level. Pogroms. Which may sounds like a group of small, furry elf-like characters from Lord of the Rings, but in fact was violent Cossacks rampaging through the ‘shtetls’, the Jewish villages, causing destruction and injury. Nice. Then, of course, Hitler found not only someone to blame for Germany’s extreme economic woes (nothing to do with losing the First World War; blame the sodding jews) but also a way to fund the forthcoming war. In one fell swoop he rounded up half of Germany’s wealth, confiscated the good bit (money, art, businesses, houses) and send the rest, the ‘human’ bit (or ‘sub-human’ in Nazi speak) to extermination camps. The only war to be funded by the scapegoats.

Fucking Jews!!! They must be really horrible people.

And some are. Some of every ‘people’ are horrible. Human nature. Diversity.

But what is it about Jews that makes us the Millwall of the world’s ethnicities? Everyone hates us but we DO care. Mainly because the publicity is generally wrong. The bad publicity, that is. And that’s pretty much all we get. Phah!

Jews represent 0.2% of the world’s population. Approximately 14 million. Most of which live in Israel and America. The rest are all over the fucking place. There are 290,000 in the UK. Less than 5% of the population. There are 800,000 Hindus here, 3 million Muslims, and a few Christians. So we are not numerous.

Yet appear to be everywhere. Perhaps that’s the reason why anti-semitism never really goes away. It dies down for periods but it never disappears. Because Jews tend to punch above their weight. 2% of the world’s population have produced 20% of Nobel winners. Hollywood is full of Jews, most often behind the camera in one place or another. Writing, directing, producing, organising the ‘casting couch’…

Lots of Jews are successful in business. And then get involved in politics.

But none of that is reason for the Labour Party to become institutionally anti-semitic, as it appears to have done in the very short tenure of Jeremy Corbyn. Himself an outspoken ‘anti-Zionist’. And yes, you can indeed be an anti-Zionist and NOT an anti-semite, but you have to be careful and not let your guard slip. Because all Jews, to one extent or another, have a vested interest in Israel. Its where we could go when the next shit happens (see above).

Jews are lovely people. They don’t evangelise, they have no desire to take over the world, they only commit blue-collar crimes. They’re good at fraud. And they love peace and stability above all else.

So, without getting all Woody Allen about it, the nebachy Jew getting his glasses stamped on, a wonderful metaphor for the entire Jewish People, I would love to know exactly what problem Jeremy Corbyn and Ken Livingstone and all their gang have with my people? When they’re happy having lunch with misogynistic, homophobic, undemocratic mass murderers on a regular basis.

Shabbat Shalom

A xxxx