Rags Of Filth

‘’Ngh...yeah...oh yeah, that’s what I like...that’s how I like it, so cold and hard, so rough and rugged, that’s what I’m into lads, that’s what – oh hello, I didn’t see you there. Oh, you know exactly who I am. Remember me, the acid-tongued columnist from the Daily Mail? You're not a reader? Oh dear, you must be some snivelling fool from the under classes, or even worse, a Guardian reader. Oh, heavens forfend! I’m sorry you caught me like this; I was just shooting my load off over this circa 1940s helmet, British forces, of course. Best in the world rah, didn’t you know. What’s this? Oh, just a few odds and ends from the war – ah, the second world war, what a heavenly thing to have been whirled up in, don’t you just love to reminisce about it? I’ve got a few old guns and whatnot lying about here too, I just adore shooting my load off to it all. It’s the roughness, the derring-do and the sheer nostalgic quality to it all – yes, we Mail journalists do have a true fetish for anything hearkening back from that lovely period. Golden age, didn’t you know. Now do turn around a second, while I finish off.''

‘‘Pass me those tissues – lovely. Thanks. You know, it’s funny that you should have mentioned the second world war because I have a profound adoration for everything anti-Nazi, especially planes, lovely things, planes, and it just really makes me stir...down there. People claim I’ve got a nasty habit for trying to link everything back to the war, but they’re a bunch of ignorant young people. Good God, I can’t stand young people at all – so bloody arrogant, so bloody alternative. Plagues of the nation, truly plagues of the nation, we ought to exterminate the brutes! Where were we? Ah, yes, the extermination of those Jew-killing German bastards. Yes. Well, you see, I wasn’t the only one seeing clear links between the England match against Germany and the war – in fact, everyone at the Mail does, did I mention we all just absolutely love the war and everything vaguely resonant of it?’’

‘’What?! Of course it was appropriate to compare the efforts of the brave, patriotic and heroic British, oh the British, oh the Britishers, Oh God save our gracious....Ahem! Yes, it was certainly right to compare...their...efforts, I like to call them ‘the few’, don’t you know – CAPITALIZE THAT WHEN YOU PUT IT IN WRITING YOU SWINE, AND SHOW SOME BLOODY RESPECT, YOU YOUNG NAIVE PIECE OF TRASH – and the English team, referencing that rather ghastly match. And I’ll tell you why – it’s my duty, as a noble and patriotic citizen, a columnist to boot, to make sure that no one who ever reads our paper – those who don’t read us aren’t worth the efforts, they’ve all been brainwashed by the liberal media – can ever forget how profound the difference is between German people and BRTISH PEOPLE and, perhaps more importantly, are never able to cast the cast-iron stereotype of Germans out of their minds. Post-war relations? A fig’s end!’’

‘’Was that a knock from outside? Open the cell door, will you? No doubt my editor, he’s in rather a foul mood today, after England lost the football to Germany and all – what’s that, master? Yes master. Young people urinating on memorials in Manchester, master? Awful, master, awful, awful, awful. Repugnant. Of course I’ll sort them out, master. I’ll find the little runt. I’ll bite his cock off. Yes, master. We do, master. No, nothing worse than a following generation of new world values or, perish the thought....liberal ideas, master. That truly would be a hideous world to live in – see you tomorrow, master. Are you still here? Good heavens, if only they hadn’t scrapped national service, little bastards such as your ilk wouldn’t be poisoning the streets – off with you! And make sure you take your bloody hat off when you walk past the English flag, you self-interested, misinformed, blinkered, ignorant bastard!’’

I Support Freedom Of Speech...Lol, jks I'm Nicholas Sarkozy

''Fascist....moi?''

It’s not every day that a pesky little chunk of political discourse called freedom of speech, or freedom of the press, for that matter, gets, to put it bluntly, defecated upon from above, but of course that’s because most countries in Europe aren’t unfortunate enough to have an image- conscious, lecherous demon of the Cabinet like Nicholas Sarkozy.

Heads rolled this morning as the admittedly brutal and acid-tongued political humouriste Stéphane Guillon was fired, no, enthusiastically thrown out on his ass, from Radio France due to his comments on the show regarding (you guessed it) Sarkozy being perceived by certain sensitive members of the public, in effect, conservatives, as ‘nasty.’ It must be said that the French word ‘méchant’ does no justice to our sorry Anglophone equivalent, but I suppose ‘sanctimonious cunt’ makes a vaguely suitable substitute for it.


Understandably, the left wing are furious, as although Guillon claimed to have attacked both conservatives and liberals in equal measure, Sarkozy certainly seems to have recently become his favourite toy. Foaming at the mouth, drunk on his own colossal political power (I’m talking about Guillon, actually) he can’t help but drool over the microphone as he spews out onto the radio waves some of the most scathing and destructive political insults known to man and beast. Even the word weasel came up a few times, perhaps in a subtle transatlantic nod to everybody’s favourite acid head, mescaline chomping Hunter S. Thompson. He’s so awesome it would be a total crime not to throw up a large picture of him, and hell, he would more than approve of Guillion’s anti-Sarko craziness.

But mindless drizzle aside, there is an alarming implication at the centre of the media furore – it would seem that Sarkozy, urging to lick his wounds and massage his bruised ego (heavens knows he’s taken a beating in the last six hours, let alone six months) Sarkozy has simply decided to make those that criticize him disappear. Thanks to the darlings at Le Grand Journal, Guillon got a little bit of final exposure on his way out, but for all we know, he could be breaking rocks in some Cuban jail or something, right now. Goddamn Conservatives.

HP Lovecraft A Racist Fiend?

The Rats in the Walls alluded to it, The Horror at Red Hook beat us over the head with it – but the question still stands: was the talented and controversial writer of cosmic horror, Howard Phillips Lovecraft, revered across the world for his flamboyant, corpulent horror fiction, a massively racist bigot?
 I have a lurking feeling that re-printing the phrases Lovecraft uses in his work would get this sorry salvatory of bloggy flesh sent down immediately, so I can only allude to his verbal assaults against black people, Asians, Indians and Arabs in passing – but anyone who flips through a copy of Lovecraft’s fiction will most certainly know what I’m talking about it.

 Lovecraft sure as hell wasn’t violently racist – his wife, Sonia Haft Greene, often commented that he would, to cut a long story short, go ape-shit around foreigners but this is the only solid evidence other than Lovecraft’s fiction that implies he was stoically, enthusiastically or passionately racist. The old wives’ tale that he was contacted by an emerging National Sozialismus Partei during the early thirties has been disproved by numerous scholars – S.T Joshi couldn’t find a trace of evidence that even alluded to this kind of lunatic theory, yet the racist label remains steadfast and difficult to remove.

 Of course, perhaps one loses sight of the fact that Lovecraft, for all his wonderful horror fiction, was something of a reclusive snob, who certainly held prejudices against the crude, uncultured American masses – so why shouldn’t he hold the same disdain against foreigners? By the same token perhaps he, not unlike Conrad, Waugh and, I suppose Fitzgerald, was simply a product of a generation which held racism as a common value – a fundamental pillar of a society which had an irrational fear for immigrants.


Personally, I think the fiction actually speaks for itself – I’m not even referring to the cat called n***** man, or the ‘grotesque negroid features’ of a black boxer. Anybody who scares the shit out of people by writing about creatures which, fundamentally are aliens, is bound to be housing some kind of racial views – the creatures and hideous creations of his fiction are, perhaps, simply crude allegories to illustrate his own racial venom in an acceptable medium. Hell, I don’t know.