loud-mouth labour-lasses locked in deadly dogma-fight for feminist supremacy

"mirror, mirror, on the wall,
who is the most feminist of them all...?"

...probably not a political question which dirty corby asks himself on a very regular basis, but one, nonetheless, which is currently causing raucous ruptions amongst his left-over-ranks in parliament...

...and so as professional investigative duty dictates, spark up! duly caught up with the fem-fracas-fraught labour-leader earlier this week, whilst he was chillin' in his favourite, threadbare allotment-shed-armchair, and gently groovin' to the latest pussy riot album as it blared-out rebelliously from his funky, vintage-silver 70s-ghetto-blaster, all between getting stuck into the serious commons-business of laboriously stringing-up this year's bumper-crop of turda red-onions.

now, as i tentatively took up my perch on a dusty wooden-crate ominously labelled "trojan powder co - dynamite" - which our rebel-without-a-clause calmly assured me was simply an empty relic of the epic 1980s struggle against the mad ironing-lady of dulwich - and was cordially invited by the presently prodigal privy-councillor to join him in an ice-cold glass of dandelion-'n-burdock, i was sorely tempted to enquire as to the precise horticultural classification of the strangely pungent greens that he was quite openly curing along with other assorted veg, but then judged, after a brief moment's consideration, that discretion might perhaps prove to be the better part of gutter-journalism.

sure, i could 'hang' for half-an-hour, the demo-happy chief-gardener indicated generously, but he just had to get back to the ranch in good time to snuggle-up on the sofa with the sizzling socially-conscious señorita for the latest nerve-jingling episode of cult us spy-thriller, homeland - a series which he agreed did, in all honesty, cast afghan, pakistani, and lebanese muslims in a poor socio-political light, yet, in doing so, also successfully achieved the pithy, parodic portrayal of cia-agents as a nefarious bunch of neurotic, bungling nitwits.

"so you're after a ringside seat for the democratic duel-to-the-death between lady laaardidah and freshwoman, juicy biceps mp?"

guessed dirty corby correctly...

"yeah"

continued corby,

"we're going to settle this furious femino-feud in the only fair way possible: the old-fashioned socialist way.  i've got a vatful of pink-jelly at home - which i concocted the other month for a constituency children's party, but which allegedly didn't go down too well - and an inflatable domestic paddling-pool...

...and well, basically, to cut through the silly saga of official party-committee disciplinary procedure, i was intending to set the pool up in my backyard, fill it with pink-gunge, and give the two combatants a decent opportunity of gaining traditional civil satisfaction, stripped-down to micro-bikinis, in a no-holds-barred jelly-wrestling match - however, by popular demand, and for reasons of ideological transparency, the bout is now due to be relocated to the green in parliament square - winner takes the job of being my personal bodyguard and champion.

now, i appreciate that the idea of letting a strapping-great brummie prop-forward manically press the face of a defenceless little-old afro-caribbean pensioner into the hallowed turf...may sound rather politically incorrect...but on the other hand, such an eventuality could potentially bring the party unforeseen dividends, if indeed it prevents her laaardidah-ship from putting her own foot in her own notoriously big trap, for even a limited period of time...

...and anyway, regardless of the jelly-contest's result, i strongly believe in the importance of promoting new, grassroots talent by providing our incoming house of commons members with plenty of sparring-practice; in fact, i'm confident that, given appropriate guidance, ms juicy biceps mp will soon rise to become a valuable weapon in our shadow-government's armoury, if we can only manage to point her in the right direction...

...moreover, i predict that with the sheer self-destructive gob-power she has already displayed since entering parliament - by fearlessly taking on george gabaway and lady laardidah during her first few months in the job - she will surely, in time, make a most effective leader of the opposition, and could even bust the door down to number ten.

nevertheless, despite ms biceps mp not initially striking me as a slick cia-trained sabotage-act, we will still have to take her quietly aside in order to explain:

• that from its outset, the civil-uprising which led to the syrian civil-war was deliberately incited by mi6 and the cia...

• that from its outset, the military opposition to president assad's syrian army was backed by mi6 and the cia, intelligence agencies which subsequently facilitated the help of handy, imported al qaeda insurgents and supplied arms, secretly smuggled into syria via turkey from libya - where coincidentally, mi6 and the cia also insidiously incited an uprising hopeless in internal national terms...

• that western military intervention in syria is a foolproof recipe for wicked world-war with russia, and maybe china too...

• that dropping bombs on syria, for humanitarian reasons, will doubtless do about as much bloody good as did demolishing libya, for humanitarian reasons...

• that western bombs and boots on muslim-ground are the prime-factors driving recruitment to isis and al qaeda...

• and that, degraded by constant abuse to a fake political excuse, any british government call for military intervention 'to protect civilians' nowadays amounts to no more than a cheap, insincere propaganda-trick employed by disingenuous, warmongering, western intelligence agencies whose most fervent evangelical desire is to convert dozy, weak-minded, western liberals into pseudo-humanitarian, neo-colonial, genocide-cheering, resource-grabbing, fascist-apologist thugs.

really though, i do sincerely hope that ms juicy biceps mp and lady laaardidah can soon settle their ideological differences, because at the moment, whenever i hear a beer-fuelled fight going on in the bars and restaurants of westminster, it's always these two louder-than-life ladies who seem to be in the thick of it, literally at each other's throats - so much so that i'm actually beginning to wonder whether they're each squabbling over my irresistible personal affections, god-help-me - but to be honest, i don't take all these hysterical spats to heart, myself, and find it helps to think of ms biceps as a younger, female version of the great, fat, new-labour slob, lord presscock - since the pair of them, along with the married mother-of-two's van, both look like they've been in a few prangs...

could i imagine appointing both these lady mps to the shadow-cabinet concurrently?  oh, i dunno: could i imagine two utterly unguided cruise-missiles continually flying 'round our labour committee-room at the same time?  jesus knows, they could cancel each other out, i suppose...but alternatively, they could both wreak total effing exponential havoc, self-detonate, and annihilate the bleeding lot of us."

accordingly, having given dirty corby the chance to clear the billowing clouds of hot-carbon-dioxide which had been produced by all these environmentally unfriendly left-wing-family arguments, we at spark up! considered it only proper to contact ms juicy biceps for her own side of the story, which she duly expressed over the telephone in the following, forthright terms:

"oh no, it's not that i don't want to see a batty old black woman in the shadow-cabinet or anything...but i just want a greater number of real, indignant white-van-women represented in the upper échelons of our party hierarchy, you know...and perhaps...just for example, of course...not quite so many toffee-nosed cambridge publicity-tarts whose radical chocko-centric ideologies generally ensure that they spend the whole fuckin' day obsessively planning their next bloody black-forest gâteau gross-out...

no, i absolutely do not have an abandoned transit-van, missing its wheels, jacked-up on bricks outside my house...i refute that disgraceful allegation totally...the truth is that, every morning, i roll the wheels out from my porch, bolt them on, kick out the bricks, and away i go...it's a bit of a rough neighbourhood, that's all...

ok, yes...i admit that, strictly-speaking, my van is not actually white...it's more a nifty shade of grey now...cuz you see, i've been far too busy, these last couple of years, engaged in pressing affairs of state...such as getting fuckin' pot-holes filled in...to give it a proper wash, loik...

take on laaardidah?  sure...i don't know what poofy kind of car she drives about in...if she can drive, that is...but i challenge the boring old biddy to a burn-up 'round parliament square any fuckin' day..."

naturally, in the name of authentic reporting, spark up! attempted to establish the complete veracity of claims, which we understand have been circulating in yardley, to the strength that ms juicy biceps knocks out 200 men a day...but tragically, the sports correspondent whom we sent to cover this unusual story is now recovering in the birmingham hardlandings hospital from a sudden, and medically inexplicable, black-out...however, during a later conversation with ms biceps' husband, tom, we ascertained that, if this rumour were indeed true, then it would presumably transpire that at least 150 out of the 200 men previously stated were in fact himself...

how wonderful for ms biceps to be blessed with such a supportive, and humourous, partner...

finally, in order to tie-up one last loose-end, we at spark up! decided to identify the local secondary school attended by ms juicy biceps, and although we certainly did not conjecture that this would be exactly the most genteel of institutions, we were, to be fair, rather surprised to be referred around the corner to the sticks 'n stones pool-hall at the bottom of hustler road...where regulars apparently confirmed that their incumbent member of parliament had achieved a full-record - learning how to handle a cue to the maximum effect, whilst mastering the ancient midland art of krack-wun-doh, together with associated advanced stick-and-ball techniques of the more exotic kind.

west-end war on natural women

besieged by widespread allegations of enforcing a racist door-policy, management at the strictly plastic nightclub in rupert street, london, have issued the following brief statement:

"at this exclusive nightclub, we maintain a strict ignorance-code in order to ensure that our establishment is only patronized by 100 percent plastic people with 100 percent plastic personalities.  if any member of staff suspects that a club-going client is in possession of body-parts which are not 100 percent plastic, our professionally trained bouncers reserve the right to test the consistency of the aforesaid alleged dodgy anatomical-areas for reasons of cultural and social integrity.

thank you and fuck off."

black comedy gold

i hear it cost cameron over 400 million quid - in caribbean infrastructure, health, and economic aid-packages - to get off the island of jamaica - the stupid, whatless cunt.

indeed, it appears the criminally complacent british government is beginning to get rather worried about countries from the far-east who are gazumping the uk's commercial and political influence in the caricom region; china's exim bank has committed itself to investing a possible 10 billion dollars in jamaica's special economic zones and industrial parks, whilst japan is offering to assist jamaica with the development of energy-efficiency and renewable-energy technology, and is also funding the institute of jamaica to the tune of about £40 million in grants.

in 1837, the british government spent £20 million in hand-outs - the equivalent of nearly £2 billion in today's money - when, in a corruptly stitched-up deal to abolish the previously state-promoted practice of slavery, it notoriously voted to buy off british slave-owners, yet, in comparison with the astronomical profits made by british merchants from slave-trading and from slave-labour, and in comparison with the additional multi-millions collected from the imposition of british taxes on slave-manufactured goods from the caribbean colonies, this figure is but a tiny drop-in-the-ocean of spilt african blood - african blood forcibly invested in the lucrative caribbean plantation business.

in contemporary terms, £2 billion represents just loose-change for the british government, which over the next few years, will i-dare-say spend a very similar sum attempting to buy-off, and curry commercial favour with, obdurate caribbean administrations - nevertheless, these payments can in no way be considered commensurate with slavery-reparation payments, which prime-minister cameron disrespectfully and summarily dismisses out-of-hand.

according to my own extremely rough, back-of-an-envelope calculations, the uk's current liability for slavery-reparations might fairly be assessed as follows:

given that, in 1770, west-indian planting-profits can be estimated at £2.5 million pounds, british profits from trading to the west-indies can be estimated at around £1.3 million, and annual british slave-trading-profits can be estimated at a minimum of £1 million - making a total annual british slave-based industry-profit of £4.8 million - one can easily surmise that, during, say, the 135-year period between 1672 - when the slave-trade was formalized, under a royal charter, by the establishment of the royal african company - and 1807 - when the slave-trade was abolished - british slave-based industries could well have raked in total-profits of about £648 million, a sum which, held in 1751, say - when the british slave-based industry was reaching full-steam - would have amounted to the present-day monetary equivalent of approximately £120 billion.

however, this current-day-conversion figure of £120 billion does not take into account slave-based profits accrued from the beginning of the english slave-based industry in 1562, during the reign of elizabeth i - when captain john hawkins made the first of three slaving-voyages to africa, and captured over 1200 africans who were then sold as goods in the spanish colonies of the americas - nor does it include slave-based profits accrued between 1625 - when barbados became the first english plantation-settlement in the caribbean - and 1672 - when the slave-trade was formalized, under a royal charter, by the establishment of the royal african company - nor does it include slave-based profits accrued between 1807 - the abolition-date of the slave-trade - and 1834 - the abolition-date, in the british empire, of slavery itself - and indeed, nor does it include profits accrued from caribbean plantations right up until the end of the british colonial period, during the latter half of the 20th century - and therefore in many ways, this afore-mentioned estimate of £120 billion could conceivably be construed as somewhat conservative.

of course, there is an alternative, strictly commercial, method of calculating britain's current liability for slavery-reparations - but then slavery was, in fact, strictly business, wasn't it?

you see, assuming the present-day british economy to be worth roughly £2 trillion annually, and the profit-value of british slave-based industries to constitute, say, at most, 5% of the british economy during any given year of the 1760-1830 industrial revolution, it would therefore follow that, in order to clear the slate with the afro-caribbean community, and to equitably recognize this community's proportional and cumulative historic contribution to our thriving modern-day economy, the british government would actually have to fork out £100 billion in slavery-reparations for the next 70 years - or pay a one-off lump-sum to the descendants of african-slaves amounting to £7 trillion.

however, this alternative current-day-conversion figure of £7 trillion does not take into account slave-based profits accrued from the beginning of the english slaved-based industry in 1562, during the reign of elizabeth i - when captain john hawkins made the first of three slaving-voyages to africa, and captured over 1200 africans who were then sold as goods in the spanish colonies of the americas - nor does it include slave-based profits accrued between 1625 - when barbados became the first english plantation-settlement in the caribbean - and 1760 - the advent of the industrial revolution - nor does it include slave-based profits accrued between 1830 - the conclusion of the industrial revolution - and 1834 - the date of slavery's abolition in the british empire - and indeed, nor does it include profits accrued from caribbean plantations right up until the end of the british colonial period, during the latter half of the 20th century - and therefore in many ways, this afore-mentioned estimate of £7 trillion could conceivably be construed as somewhat conservative.

of course, the - minimum - £7 trillion current-day-conversion-figure for slavery-reparations, to which i have heretofore referred, is purely hypothetical, nay negotiable, and in light of the fact that our modern economy is majorly reliant upon the sale and manufacture of various diabolic armaments, and other hideous weapons of mass-destruction, it is quite possible that, due to insuppressible religious considerations, the coalition of rastafari movement groups - which in 2004 itself lodged a reasonably substantial claim of £72.5 billion for slavery-reparations - might, in the given present circumstances, perhaps not wish to accept absolutely the entire available sum, as duly calculated by myself - not that i am in any manner of position to make judgment, obviously.

now, it must be be borne in mind that the corrupt nature of government-to-government-administrated reparation-schemes inevitably tends to precipitate the massive procurement of destructive military hardware by even the smallest of claimant-states - which may subsequently evolve into obnoxious, repressive, regional bully-boys - and, to be fair, therefore, there should be considered a variegated multitude of alternative means by which slavery-reparations, and compensation for colonialism, might judiciously be effected - via the foundation of a so-called 'commonwealth', for example, whereby all citizens of said 'commonwealth' might, by historical right, enjoy the freedom to reside in the former colonial 'mother-country' of great britain, wherein they might further enjoy all the normal benefits and conditions of said residence strictly in common with the indigenous citizens of great britain themselves.

moreover, all descendants of british-owned slaves, regardless of colour, class, creed, or current circumstance, should be awarded the automatic freedom of access to an incorruptible british justice-system invested with the statutory power to recover - whether this be from individuals, institutions or corporations - the criminally acquired slave-produced wealth which rightfully and inherently belongs to them - for indeed, any justice-system which fails to deliver such required retrospective reparation cannot ever lawfully be deemed a true system of justice.


sources:

enslavement and industrialisation - by robin blackburn

the abolition project - east of england broadband network and mla east of england

atlantic slave trade - wikipedia

economy of the united kingdom - wikipedia

historical uk inflation and price conversion - stephen morley