Monday 29 July 2013

Day 38 - M' Learned Friends



The world-renowned toffy-nosed newspaper, The Chimes of Ingerlanshire, has printed an advert paid by intellectuals and movie stars attacking the self-appointed Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire. His Supreme Excellency (etc) Tey Thorn has gone ballistic with rage (again) because until this point in time he was absolutely sure that everyone in the known universe loved him like a God.

"I am not a dictator!" he dictated to his chronicler (-that's me by the way). "I will sue them into bankruptcy as I have ruined so many of my enemies! I am not Hitler! My rally in which everyone chanted and happily raised their right fists was not in any way reminiscent of the Nuremberg Rallies."

Flunky: Yes my Lord.

Thorn: Did I not sue and win against a schoolboy who called me a lightbulb ?

Flunky: Yes my Lord. That was a just and virtuous win.

Thorn: Did I not sue and financially ruin a cartoonist who likened me to a kitten caught up in a ball of string ?

Flunky: Yes Efendi. That was a deeply malicious cartoon, drawn with such poison.

Thorn: Did I not sue and financially ruin a musician who sang a song called "The Thorn Blues" on YouTube ?

Flunky: To suggest that you were not bringing joy to your citizens was a heinous crime punishable by death, my Lord.

Thorn: Then we must engage a lawyer in Ingerlanshire and sue The Chimes of Lundun County. This advert was a crime against human rights and a heinous crime against humanity.

Flunky: My Lord, you are, as we all know, most powerful. But in Ingerlanshire it is the newspaper owners who control the politicians - not as it is here where you control the newspapers and TV stations. A supremely powerful man called Robert McMurdereroch has all the politicians in his pocket. And he owns The Chimes, the newspaper you wish to ruin. In the Infidel world outside these borders it is McMurdereroch who pulls the strings.

Thorn: Not David Macaroon ?

Flunky: No my Lord. David Macaroon is the lobotomized puppet leader of Ingerlanshire. Anyway, we have contacted The Chimes and I have taken the liberty of sending for the Chimes's libel lawyer's portrait so that we may understand him better. Here it is.


Thorn: Oh fuck.

After Thorn had recovered his composure (Raki helped) he asked me (as a native of Ingerlanshire) to provide a guide to English libel lawyers. I wrote in my report:

The English Libel Lawyer (Libelus Legalis Assholusi) is an exotic creature renowned for devouring prey large and small as well as its own young during its daily migration from the Home Counties to the shores of the River Tems at the heart of Lundun County. Its many thousands of receptors on its elongated nose allows it to scent blood or cash in the water from several miles away. It devours everything in its path, friend or foe and then takes all their money.

Thorn: How much is all this going to cost me ?

Me: Several million Ingerlan parnds.

Thorn: Double fuck.

Saturday 27 July 2013

Day 36 - Time Travel - Dr. Tey and the Tardis

The self-appointed Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire, Tey Thorn, is annoyed again - and Twitter is once again in his sights.

Thorn wrote:


I am boiling with anger. Those bastards at Twitter won't give me the names of the terrorists who were telling the Brownies and Cub Scouts where to get refreshing lemonade during their anarchist invasion and occupation of the village park. I have called in my advisers and have ordered them to arrest Twitter.

Flunky:  Lord, even you, most powerful and holy one, cannot arrest Twitter.

Thorn: And why not ?

Flunky: Twitter is an organization that is located beyond the borders of our Shire.

Thorn: Then arrest its ringleaders.

Flunky: They too live beyond our borders. And they have committed no crime.

Thorn: Then let's change the law so that they have committed a crime.

Flunky: Lord, even you, most powerful one, cannot create crimes of actions in the past.

And so it came to pass that Mister Thorn hatched a devilish plan to outwit the Jewish Conspiracy at Twitter.

Thorn: Then I will travel back in time and order my past self to change the law so that we can arrest those Tweeting bastards and jail the Jews that run Twitter. I have heard that in the land of Ingerlanshire there exists a great magician called The Doctor and a machine called the Tardis that can travel through time. We will steal his machine, bring it to Little Tallyban, travel back a few months and change the law.



Thorn: I am so excited. My diplomats have procured the Tardis from a cockney called Bob in a London backstreet for a mere 50,000 pounds. I have a Tardis! And my publisher informs me that all people who travel in the Tardis are called Retards. Just imagine it! I am a retard!

Later that day.

Thorn: The fucking thing doesn't work. And it's bloody tiny inside. Even when we said the magic words that Bob told us to say. Even when we made the strange screeching noises that Bob had told us to say that we had seen on the demo DVD.

Flunky: Do not worry my Lord. We have a Plan B. We have all the newspaper owners in the Shire in our pocket and we can force them to print what we want. You will note the identical headlines in today's newspapers. We will order them to report that the law against Twitter already exists.

Thorn: Excellent!

Publisher's Note: The above photo is used for illustrative purposes only. Everyone knows that Turkey is a fully functioning democracy. These newspapers are from the parallel universe of Istanshire where a madman is at the controls, where newspapers regularly print lies to hoodwink the populace, the international community couldn't give a fuck, and truth is dead.


Friday 26 July 2013

Day 35 - Dawn of the Undead Idiots

Mister Thorn, the self-appointed Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire, has been in hospital (again) with multiple self-inflicted gunshot wounds to the foot. Naturally he blames the Rebellious Renegades of the village's Brownie and Cub Scout packs for his misfortune.

Bugger! I've just got Mrs Thorn's latest credit card bill. The bloody interest rate in Istanshire has had to be increased so that the International Jewish Banking Conspiracy continue to fund my frothy economic miracle which has been in somewhat of a death dive of late.

The wife has been on another of her spending sprees and bought our son a new cargo ship to add to his growing fleet. I'm a self made man. As a boy I used to sell lemonade on the village streets. Now I am a multi dollar billionaire. Not bad for a street kid huh ? Of course my detractors point out that this is impossible for a government official on a meagre stipend. Of course it's bloody impossible! They are such idiots. That's why I collect gifts from all the industrialists in my shire who want to continue doing business without getting a ruinous tax audit. That's what Swiss bank accounts are for and I have six!




Mister Thorn's ministers have been told to be more pious and to use the new state religion in all their day to day speeches and decisions.  So one of Thorn's government lawyers (not the sharpest tool in the shed - but what do you expect ?) launched an attack on expectant mothers who show off their bumps in public. Thorn agreed.

Pregnant women walking around in public are advertising that they have been shagging. Shagging is against our religion, is indecent and is just plain wrong. I have issued a decree. Shagging is hereby banned in our Shire.

The phone rings. It is the Chief Vicar. I have transcribed Thorn's side of the conversation.

What do you mean that our religion has been nominated for the Darwin Awards ? ....I thought you said sex was unholy ?.... Fuck! Make your bloody mind up! .....yes .....yes.....no....okay.....yes... But surely these sluts should just lock themselves away until it's all over?.... What do you mean it's a holy sacrament of marriage ?...... But......Mrs Thorn also told me that shagging was against our religion.... What ? .... It's not ?!!!!..... I'm gonna cancel that bitch's credit cards! And how the hell did she get pregnant then ?.... Yes I did do human biology at the faith school I attended. Yes I know where babies come from. They come from God....yes ..... no.... yes... God needs a little help ? Eh ?






Mister Thorn's Minister for Health has also been busy being pious. He has been gradually phasing out conventional medicine (most of the doctors are now in jail or working as street sweepers after getting fired). He is advising citizens to pray more in order to get protection from illness by god himself. Western medicines are unclean because they are often made with the donations of blood from unbelievers and pork eaters - specifically in Ingerlanshire where many advanced medicines are made.

My health minister has put the world on notice. We will not accept any medicines made by the unclean infidel pork eaters. Our medicines are being made by a race of vampires in league with the scientists of the Undead.

The phone rings. It is the Chief Vicar again. Again I dutifully transcribe Thorn's side of the conversation.

What do you mean there is no such thing as vampires ?.... Uh huh. uh huh. No undead either ? Uh huh. Can't I use that in my speech anyway. Most of what I say is completely made up anyway.... Uh huh. uh huh.... What ?!!! God can't take the place of medicines ? You have to be shitting me! ... uh huh.... It's just religious rhetoric... Uh huh. .....No more bullshit of any kind in my speeches?...... That will be hard.





 


Friday 19 July 2013

Day 33 - Lies, Damned Lies and Statistics


The above chart is similar to that of Istanshire's gas price increases over several years. Of course this diary is about Istanshire and has absolutely nothing to do with Turkey, which is in a parallel universe.


Mister Thorn, the self-appointed Grand Caliph of Istanshire, is meeting with a journalist from the world-famous financial service, Gloomberg, at his sultanate in the village of Little Tallyban.

Journalist: There are some concerns in the world of international finance that your inflation figures over the last few years just don't add up. Try as we might, we just can't square the circle. We see that beer prices have almost doubled and beer prices in bars have almost trebled in three years, thanks to the new ultra-expensive license fees you have levied.

Thorn: My people don't drink alcohol. If they drink then they are not my people. They did not vote for me.

Journalist: So alcohol has not been included in your theoretical inflation basket of products ?

Thorn: Of course not. Drinkers will go straight to hell. It is an infidel habit.

Journalist: Okay then. How about cigarettes ? They have doubled in price in the last few years, haven't they ?

Thorn: My people don't smoke cigarettes. If they smoke then they will go straight to hell. Smokers are not my people.

Journalist: Okay then. That's not included either. So - this brings us onto petrol. Benzine prices have doubled in the last three years, have they not ?

Thorn: Benzine is a vice. Cars are a vice. Only the price of public transport is included in my inflation figures. These prices are fixed by the state and cross subsidised from private use of petrol. My people do not use cars.

Journalist: Your people do not use cars ? Surely not true. Many workers outside the great cities have to use a car or a truck to carry out their business. They are paying almost a third of their tiny monthly net income on benzine alone.

Thorn: If they can afford a car or a truck then they can afford to pay the tax. Or buy a camel like a good Arab.

Journalist (exasperated): But surely benzine should be included in your inflation calculations! Please tell me exactly what is included in your calculations. How is your annual inflation figure calculated ? Is it based on the price of camel fodder perhaps ? We calculate your country's annual inflation as at least 30%. You claim it is 6% to 8%.

Thorn: Well, we selected a village market in the East where there is no industry, just family farms. The people buy their food from the market or grow it themselves. The market prices are fixed by the state.

Journalist: So your inflation figure is based on the lifestyle of someone living a subsistence existence, buying local produce occasionally, at a fixed, subsidized price, taking public transport when available.

Thorn: Or using a donkey. More chai ?

Tuesday 16 July 2013

Day 32 - In league with the International Jewish Conspiracy




Today Mister Thorn is having a power breakfast with his press officer. They are feasting on pickled Venezuelan Poodle Moths. There have been reports in the infidel media that Istanshire secretly co-operated with archenemy Jewshire and allowed their air force to use Istanshire bases to carry out airstrikes against their mutual neighbor Sinistershire. In the true spirit of dictatorship Mister Thorn insists on drafting the press release himself because he doesn't trust his flunkies.




Thorn: No frickin' way did we let Jewshire use our airbases. We feel betrayed by our International partners who should have kept their big mouths shut as we frickin' agreed. These claims are absolutely wrong and saying otherwise is an act of betrayal by complete bastards who are now trying to drop me in the shit. Those who claim this are trying to damage Istanshire's relationships with its loyal Arab friends who would be frickin' apocalyptic if they discovered I was co-operating with our ancient, sworn enemy, the International Jewish Conspiracy. So we didn't do it. And print that!

I asked Mister Thorn how he was going to explain away the coming hike in domestic interest rates which he promised would never happen.

Thorn:  I have instructed my newspapers to redact the article in which I never made this promise.

Isn't that a little Orwellian? I asked. Whoever controls the past controls the future.

Thorn: Exactly.


Sunday 14 July 2013

Day 31 - Twitter - the Jewish Conspiracy




Mister Thorn is in fine spirits today. He has definite proof of the Jewish Conspiracy.

My people have been pressuring the infidel Twitter to reveal the names and addresses of the Brownies and Boy Scouts who took part in the illegal summer camp in the village park. Twitter refused. However, some of my men who have been hurling insults at Jews on Twitter are about to be arrested after those insulted Jews went to court and sued Twitter for $50 million. My men are now up shit creek BUT they have shown to the world that Twitter is run by Jews and favors Jews. And it is anti-Istanshire. So much for the infidel freedom of speech. The only way Twitter can show they are truly impartial is to reveal the names and addresses of those Boy Scouts and Brownies that I seek. The sword of destiny awaits.


It's time for Mister Thorn's visit to the psychiatrist.

Psychiatrist:  First of all let me assure you that your tertiary syphilis is now under control but there is some moderate brain damage. Your irrational outbursts about people using magical powers to try and kill you are completely understandable.

Thorn: That bastard whore! He told me he was clean and that I didn't need to wear a condom.

Psychiatrist: So, Mister Thorn. How long have you had these feelings that the leaders of the infidel shires are using telekinesis to harm you ? ...... Okay, let's try something else. Do you really think there is an all powerful sky god who is directing and inspiring all your actions ? But you think watching Harry Potter movies is sinful, right ?








Saturday 13 July 2013

Day - 30 Incognito


My psychiatrist and my publisher recommended that I should get out more, to meet the people incognito as the old Roman emperors once did. Me a Roman emperor ? I like the idea of that! I've yet to put to death as many as the average Roman emperor but it's early days. They fed Christians to the lions which seems perfectly acceptable to me. As you can see from the picture, Mrs Thorn and I put on our best and finest religious attire to disguise our appearances. I couldn't see a bloody thing through that veil. The wife said the beard was scratchy as hell and refused to wear it anymore after the picture was taken. 

Publisher: I asked Mister Thorn what it meant to have an overwhelming majority of 50% of the popular vote (or 28% if all the opponents votes under 10% don't get arbitrarily transferred to the leading party.) He said cheerily:

Well, I have license to do anything I want. 

As a student of Socratic dialogue it is always better to lead the unreasonable person into making a rational thought, and also lead him to believe that it is his. OK Mister Thorn, I said daringly, let me ask you this. So if you felt the need to kill all the people who didn't vote for you, maybe send them to death camps, would you feel justified ? He said:

Now there's a thought!

Sorry Socrates. I tried.

Thursday 11 July 2013

Day 28 - Venus in Chains



I have been obsessing about this picture all day, especially in the toilet. In spite of all my efforts to ban them, the youngsters of the village have been holding celebrations wearing very tight T-shirts bearing the name of that drunken old bastard whose name I have been trying to erase from the shire I now rule with a rod of iron. There are so many things that are wrong with this picture. Firstly I can see her creamy legs. Secondly her skirt is far too short. Thirdly she is smiling. Fourthly it's obvious that her mother needs lessons in how to wash clothes - on very close and long inspection the skirt and t-shirt appear to have shrunk in the wash and her two lady things above are clearly on show. Surely this next picture, which is in fitting with my shire's state religion, is much better ?



Wednesday 10 July 2013

Day 27 - Under the Volcano



Morning: The vicars have told me to keep my mouth shut again because they say they are fed up with me winding everyone up. What is the point of being Supreme Being if you can't do any spiteful winding and biblical smiting ? 

Anyway, here is my good old friend Fetullah Ghoulen who has perfected the art of being a real-life James Bond arch villain without anyone actually noticing. He has created a network of hundreds of faith colleges and schools in the United Shires, spreading our propaganda and new religion amongst the infidels and without using a penny of his $25 billion fortune. Unlike Ernst Blofeld he doesn't need to build missiles to threaten the world. He does it by brainwashing his pupils. And, and here is the hilarious part, our mutual enemy the President of the United Shires, Brad Orbarma, actually pays for it all! Brad Orbarma is truly our bitch.

Evening: Sod the vicars! I am ready for some smiting. Those bloody Brownies and Cub Scouts have invaded the park again and have also opened a street fete near the village square. I have sent my water cannon and riot police to the scene.

Just one foul move and we'll have you, you little trouble makers!





Monday 8 July 2013

Day 26 - Indoctrination for the new world order

I love children. Children that are brought up in our faith are so easy to educate. Here they are learning how to ruin an infidel song called Ciao Bello while waving their War Fists of Passion. They round it off with some praising of lovely me.




Publisher: I asked Mister Thorn whether maths, physics and a few foreign languages would not go amiss in his new faith schools. He said:

The only thing women need to know is how to serve their future husbands and look after babies. And how to praise god and me. Carrying suicide bombs is also encouraged. 

Saturday 6 July 2013

Day 24 - Drugs - just say no!




Several infidel newspapers and TV stations have claimed that my riot police and plain clothes police are taking drugs to stay awake and have become psychotic.  Or they would have if their journalists had any balls. But I have them all scared. Ha ha! Besides, it is not drugs. Only deadbeats and muggers take drugs. My riot police are taking prescription medicines provided by one of the few remaining doctors who I haven't jailed or maimed for annoying me. It is not a saber that my policeman is carrying. It is an instrument of god's love.

I am enjoying a new poster that I have pinned to the wall. It shows how the world will look in less than two decades. A country ruled by mullahs, religious courts and policemen carrying instruments of god's love. I will use a similar model for Istanshire. This will be my legacy.






Friday 5 July 2013

Day 23 - That'll show 'em!

The comedy material supplied by the government of Istanshire has been overwhelming in recent days. However, on behalf of the publishers, we will strive around the clock to keep you up to date with the various witless players and the stupidity of their actions. Never before in history have so many political blunders happened in such a short period.  And who is more foolish ? The fools or the fools who elect them and finance them?

The fellow below, His Excellency, The United Shires Ambassador to the Grand Caliphate of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire we have met before. Not a few days ago he rubber stamped the democracy of Istanshire to widespread international jaw dropping. But who could blame him ? He has to live in Istanshire and, like a lizard, every time someone cuts his balls off he slowly grows another pair.... Takes some time though.

Some of Little Tallyban's officials have been invited to the United Shires embassy for a Grand Banquet where they are dined on all the delicacies that petty cash can buy, Big Macallyban, Fries, Coke (Large).  Quoting from one of Istanshire's great historic leaders (who cannot be named for the sake of my future children) Mr. Spinelessoni, the US Ambassador, says:

"It is better to counter ideas with counter ideas rather than with bloody, senseless, vicious, vindictive, sadistic police violence,"  - or something along those lines. Outraged, the Comedy Store rise to their feet with an air of pompous confusion. Feeling that they have been insulted but lacking the intelligence to identify just how, the band of idiots leave their polystyrene containers on the table and walk out in a huff  en masse.

Grand Caliph Thorn wrote of the incident later: "I am impressed by their loyalty."

I asked him, "But shouldn't they have stayed put and enjoyed their supersized take-outs ? Surely your men have just demonstrated by their actions that they think it is better to kick the shit out of anyone who disagrees with you, wouldn't you agree ?"

Thorn said: "And your point being ?"

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Thursday 4 July 2013

Day 22 - Who is my bitch ?

More Thorn Porn


I phoned the President of the United Shires, Brad Orbarma, last night. He said he was on the John, whatever that means. Probably some strange infidel homosexual custom. I congratulated him for supporting the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt against the military coup, for withdrawing military funding from the Egyptian army, for supporting the Muslim rebellion against President Assad in Syria, for supporting my struggle against the Brownie Rebellion in the village park and for giving me 22 billion dollars annually just to be his friend. I love that man. Bin Laden is dead but who needs him when we have Brad Orbarma working for the creation of the  new World Caliphate. He is truly my bitch.



Day 21 - The new space program

I have instructed my staff to speed up the first launch of our new space program. In keeping with our devout religious perspective I have fired and jailed all the scientists and the new capsule will be powered by prayer. There have been some difficulties in getting it off the ground it's true. But with the added prayer energy of my new faith schools, which have replaced our technical universities, I am confident that we will see our first astronaut achieving lift-off - god willing. At the moment god (peace be unto him and myself) is being a complete bastard and the damned thing refuses to budge. I have instructed my people to pray harder so that at last our great county can be a rival to Brad Orbarma's United Shires and we can have peace weapons in space.



Tuesday 2 July 2013

Day 20 - It's the jews

Ha! I have escaped the hoards of unbelievers that wish me dead by taking my holiday amongst them. What better way to hide from one's enemies than to live with them side by side. I instructed my newly appointed 3,000 bodyguards  to take me to a villa in the holiday village of Izmire-On-Sea in the county of Heathenshire. It is owned by one of the many industrialists to whom I have given a 100% tax break as long as he does what I tell him -- and lends me his swanky villa natch. What on earth is he doing having a villa in a Beach Party stronghold, my main political rival, I do not know. I shall have to have words with him. I suppose it's OK as long as the vicars don't find out -- and they do a very good infidel bacon and eggs at one of the bars down on the promenade.

I am working on my speech that I will give to the vicars. "We need a theme," I said to my advisors, as I munched on the extra crispy bacon butty which I had discovered tastes heavenly when dipped in egg yolk.   They came up with a load of stuff about the cause of the Brownie Revolt was me not listening to the people -- I don't know exactly as I wasn't really paying much attention during the meeting. Can you blame me ? That imported back bacon is sooo good.

So here goes with my excellent speech.

Ever since the beginning of time the jews have been out to get me and to kill God

Publisher's note:  Mister Thorn's visit to his fantasy world of make belief was interrupted by his nurse so that he could take his psych meds and to have his rabies injections. To keep you amused for the rest of this blog entry, here is some Thorn Porn.