Day 70 - I Love the Smell of Teargas in the Morning

The State Religion of Masli Makes Women Free

The Grand Sphincter of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire Tey Thorn is thumbing through his photo albums.....

Thorn: I am so proud of my granddaughter who is now in faith school. She has given me her new annual class photo. She's the girl with the blond hair.

Later.....

Thorn: The village children spend their days taunting me and my Mayor of Wankara on the Internet using their infernal iPhones. He is indeed more than a few cards short of a full deck but that's part of his job description. Who in their right mind would want to be public servant to the village mob - at least without kickbacks?  And so I have once again declared war on those unholy Jewish dogs at Twitter. I have abandoned plans to found my own service - TurkTwatter -- because I ended up twatting to myself. Nobody listen to me, even on the Internet and that's fucking full of like-minded wackos.  I have just ordered 6,000 villagers to volunteer and create something called mind-bending hashbags on Twitter so that the world can see the good side of Greater Istanshire and not just the brutal public beatings cuddling of protesters by my plain-clothed policemen, the delightful mutilations body modifications, the justified murders unaccidental killings and the delicious terrible teargassing deaths. Oh #BOLLOCKS! Twat that!

Teargas clouds in the night sky over the Masli paradise of Little Tallyban, Istanshire

Day 66 - Olympian Idiots

Some Musli porn to start your day.

The Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire is monumentally pissed (off). His Caliphate has not been awarded the Olympics by the Jewish controlled Olympia Committee.

Thorn wrote: I don't understand them. Istanshire is a fantastic place to have the Games. My citizens excel in water sports thanks to the free Toma water cannons I provide. They regularly compete against my riot police in both sprint and marathon disciplines. Discus and Javelin would be absolutely no problem. My citizens excel at throwing bricks at the riot police during the nightly fun and games. My police athletes would be champions in the rifle competitions and regularly shoot protesters in the face with tear-gas canister guns from a range of several meters. Not to mention the regular marksman practice against the rebellious riff-raff with plastic bullets.



Later that day - His Most Excellent Excellency of Highnessness Thorn is with his advisers in a crisis meeting. 

Thorn: How the fuck did we lose the Olympia? You know how much that meant to me.

Toady: (Giggles) About five million dollars in construction kickbacks Efendi ?

Thorn: No no that's not what I meant. Although you are right. I mean why ?

Toady: I think the police killing the riff-raff on the streets didn't help our case Efendi.

Thorn: Yes, you are right. We should kill more of them so they stay in their homes.


Editor: Below the Under 21s national football team from heathen Swedeshire get teargassed during their national anthem before the start of the game against the Caliphate's team at the village recreation ground.

 Later.....

His Nastiness is in another crisis meeting. This time it is about one of the riff-raff who was killed during a night of completely censored street riots.

Thorn: He really did die because he fell off a building. It was all recorded by a security camera. Why haven't our media reported this?

Toady: They did Efendi.

Thorn: Then why are the Rebellious Riff-Raff still on the streets throwing rocks ?

Toady: They don't believe our press anymore Efendi.

Day 63 - Revenge of the Men in Grey

Day 62 - Somewhere Over the Fucking Rainbows

His Crappola Highness Tey Thorn is not amused by the cub scouts and brownie packs of the Village of Little Tallyban. After his sexually confused speech in which he simultaneously introduced separate bathing for men and women while banning homosexuality (with the exception of men buggering male goats which is allowed under the new state religion) the kids have started painting the village in the gay colors of the rainbow.

Thorn writes: The little shits are always trying to provoke me. Everyone provokes me. That is why I have ordered the village workmen to paint over these horrendous looking stairs in a lovely municipal grey. That'll show them.

 

 But the more the grey men fumed and painted the more the village children painted....

 

 

 

Furious that the rainbow revolution went completely unopposed by his own supporters (who don't understand symbolism anyway) Thorn began to pen a revenge speech.

Thorn wrote: My riot police have suffered so much at the hands of the brownie and cub scouts. They have suffered endless provocation. Flowers thrust in front of their faces. Glasses of undoubtedly poisoned lemonade offered. And bullets. Oh yes. Real ones. Shot at my policemen.

Toady: O lord and mighty one.

Thorn: Yes, yes, yes, what do you want now ?

Toady: It is against our religion to lie. It is a sin. To lie. About um.... the bullets. No shots have ever been fired.

Thorn: I read that shots had been fired.

Toady: Yes Efendi. Our policeman shot and killed a protester.

Thorn: But our man was shooting back, surely?

Toady: If my lord wishes it so...

Later that day.....

Thorn has just appeared on a particularly smarmy TV show in which he has been praised for his achievements..... endlessly.

Thorn: Note to self. Must buy that nice TV presenter some sex lube. His butt must be so sore.

Day 58 - The Gay in the Closet - Just say yes!

His Grand and Most Excellent Excellency (etc etc) Tey Thorn is furious (again) - this time because opinion polls conducted in the Village of Little Tallyban say he is autocratic. They say he has surrounded himself with advisers who are toadies, sycophants and Yes Men.

Thorn stormed to a meeting of the party faithful: I am always open to new ideas. I call on all intellectuals to criticize me if they think I am wrong. I am not a scientist. My advisers are not Yes Men. They are all handpicked because their opinions concur with mine. And if any intellectual in the Shires should wish to criticize me me then let them have the balls to stand up publicly for what they believe is right.

Publisher's note: Understandably, those intellectuals who have not already been jailed, sued into poverty, disemboweled or deprived of their 'crown jewels' are reluctant to come forward. Undeterred, Mister Thorn continues to burrow himself deeper into the personal lives of his subjects.

He continues: From now on, gay men -- who are certainly an abomination and destined for the lake of fire in Hell -- will be prevented from being employed by the state. Homosexuality will be illegal and a jail-able offence. And I am also announcing a new building plan of separate swimming pools for men and women. No more will men have to look at women in bikinis. We are creating a nation where men and women will no longer use the same swimming pools . From now on the sexes will bathe separately to avoid any improper conduct. Imagine a world where men no longer have to be confronted by lascivious women in bikinis. I will give this to you.

The irony of announcing these two policies together goes unnoticed. After the hysterical reception by the party faithful Mister Thorn turns to his advisers.

Thorn: I no longer want Yes Men in my entourage.

Creepy Toady 1: Yes Efendi.

Thorn: Will you disagree with me if you feel I am in the wrong ?

Creepy Toady 2: Yes of course Efendi.

Thorn: Am I the greatest man who ever lived ?

Creepy Toady 3: Yes indeed Efendi.

Day 56 - The Cancer Spreads

Complicated doctoring for cancer-stricken babies is now a thing of the past in the Shires.

The self-appointed Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Great Istanshire is over the moon about his new health service. With the doctors gone (arrested, jailed, fled), Mister Thorn has handed much of the healing work over to the Mami - the vicars for the new state religion of Masli. Here we see them attempting to heal a child with cancer by using holy tickling sticks.

Thorn writes: With the economy going down the boghole fast I have had to make a few budget cuts. The vicars have agreed to fill in for the doctors at the shire's hospitals and I am saving a packet. The kid is probably doomed anyway, so why spend any money on him? And as you can see my vicars have a better bedside manner.

The Grand Caliph is reading a foreign newspaper as he eats his breakfast.

Thorn: I am pleased to see that our new religious infiltration is going well in Ingerlanshire. Soon everyone will be named after the great Masli Prophet - won't that be delightfully confusing for the parents! They will all grow up ready to fight and die so that Ingerlanshire becomes part of my Caliphate.

Mister Thorn has been cutting onions again in preparation for his appearance on state TV. 

 This is from a different universe called Turkey which is ruled by a benign, wise and loving and democratic prime minister. The picture of him genuinely weeping is used for illustration purposes only.

Thorn: I am so unhappy about the tragedy of the Masli Brotherhood in Gipposhire. Now I don't have any friends at all. My plan for a Middle East-wide Caliphate in which I am the leader has all gone to the unholy dogs. I can only hope that my friend Brad Orbarma, the President of the United Shires continues to be my puppet and brings the new Sissy Regime to its knees. I have promised to deliver him a benign Masli world if he makes me Caliph with his military might. The whole world knows that I keep my promises.

And finally, dear reader, here is a guide to the present state of the Middle East in which Brad Orbarma of the United Shires is (confusingly) backing Al Quaeda rebels in Synistershire to the east. Good luck in making out why the United Shires is supporting Al-Quaeda or the Masli Brothershood.

 Photo above is for illustration purposes only and in no way represents the state of things in this universe.

 

Day 54 - Tey-lee Plotter and the Burqas of Doom

The famous international financial advice service Gloomberg has accused the self-appointed Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire of being "semi-unhinged". After reading it Thorn became completely unhinged and the metaphorical door is unlikely to be rehung any time soon, even with the finest medical psychiatric assistance money can buy. The toady who brought the article to Thorn's breakfast table on a silver platter has received his reward and is quietly dripping blood onto the floor with a kitchen knife handle protruding from his chest. Actually it's not quiet. Thorn is eating his breakfast while watching the dying man's convulsions.

Thorn writes: How could they utter these lies ? Everyone hates the Jews - even God and he is supposed to love everyone. I have got rid of the hookers from the streets of the village and the shire. Glad to see the end of those sluts.

Cringing Toady 2: Lord, we thought you said hookahs. We got rid of the bubble pipes in the village bars by making a $1,000 tax on them.

Thorn:  I am surrounded by fools. No wonder there are no more infidel tourists in the shires. I have called the housemaid to clear up the blood of both toadies and told her to dispose of the bodies.

The exchange rate for village tokens is now, thanks to Gloomberg and the hookah fuck-up, plunging on the international markets but I can turn it to my advantage. Since I am going to be kicked from office anyway I will leave the next prime minister with a ruined economy and the conditions will be ripe for an irreversible Masli revolution where my people gain power for ever!

It is time for bed and Mister Thorn likes to take a little light reading from his holy book, The Horny Kola.

Day 50 - A Rip in the Fabric of Spacetime

Real-life James Bond villain, Fetullah Ghoulean

wants a worldwide Caliphate.

There has been much speculation in the state-controlled media that The Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire is ill. They are right - he is in the booby hatch again.

Thorn writes: One minute the tailor was fitting my new jacket with the very long arms and in the next I was being carted into an ambulance. The vicars say I have to stay here until I learn something called humility. That might take a while as there is no dictionary in my padded cell and I have no idea what the word means.

There has also been a critical article in one of the 'friendly' newspapers, The Today's Zaperson, which is under the influence of real-life James Bond villain, Fetullah Ghoulean, that Thorn should take anti-depressants and chill-out. Ghoulean is the mastermind behind the coming World Caliphate and formerly one of Thorn's secret backers.

Thorn writes: They want me to take medication ? I'm already taking bloody medication! What do you think I would be like if I wasn't ?! My friends in the Masli Brotherhood were angels of a new world order. All they did was promise voters to lead Gipposhire into a modern democracy by chopping off the hands and gouging out the eyes of anyone who objected to being taken back 300 years to where such punishments were the norm. What's not to like ??? Why is anyone complaining ? I don't get it. I've been getting away with this for ten years although admittedly I am a lot cleverer and subtler than that fruit and nut job, Brother President Muesli.


Ghoulean lives in Pennsylvania under a volcano using his huge personal fortune to finance the coming world-wide Caliphate, while inexplicably living under the protection of Brad Orbarma, President of the United Shires. Ghoulean is furious because the Masli Brotherhood has been toppled from power by a military coup  in nearby Gipposhire. The so-called Masli-Stink (or CIA-backed (and named) Arab Spring as you call it in your parallel Universe) has come to a grinding halt. The anonymity that Ghoulean has enjoyed for over a decade has come to an end. A huge demo by villagers, complete with international TV cameras is about to arrive and put a metaphorical bomb in his volcano's cauldron. 

Meanwhile in Gipposhire the vicars (after being signalled by Volcano HQ) are holding helpful services and then sending members of the congregation to fight the new regime's soldiers armed only with the martyr's promise of 72 virgins. If there were any virgins in heaven before Gipposhire's coup then there aren't anymore and there is a bit of a deflowering backlog. Not to matter because the remaining congregation has been slaughtering women and children at random to make up the numbers.

Thorn writes: My efforts to take my own country back in time have also suffered a mortal set-back. Let me explain. To maintain some appearance of democracy is important so that we can keep the $22bn a year flowing in from Brad Orbarma of the United Shires. Therefore I have not been able to assassinate, jail or disappear as many opposition party members as I would like. Those bastards in the village council have just blocked my bid to become Omnipotent President Of The World Until The End Of Time.  FUCK! And what if Orbarma and the CIA now also turn on me ?

Day 46 - Nearly there! - the enemy within.

Afghanistan and Turkey - then and now (from a parallel universe which is not the subject of this blog at all, oh no)

 

And (below) Women's Day in Iran, then and now.

My fiendish plan to turn Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire into a religious dictatorship is almost complete. It is important that we keep Brad Orbarma of the United Shires on our side until the transformation is complete. My supporters are impatient for the coming World Caliphate and have been sloppy. News has leaked of more bombs by my supporters against their embassies. I just wish they would bloody well wait until my power as Supreme Being is unassailable.  Then we can complete our takeover of Ingerlanshire, the European Empire and the United Shires with our undercover sleeper cells who are already embedded with the enemy. Here is a new base for our fighters being built in the village of Wimbly in Lundun, Ingerlanshire. The idiots just let us build as we please.

And here (below) is another secret base in Old York, Old York in the United Shires

There is no better camouflage than hiding in plain sight, is there ?

Day 44 - Lost in Time - the Erdoganikon Machine

The Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire threw down a challenge to the village's cub scouts and brownie packs to design a new flag for their nation. The flag, said Thorn, should pay tribute to the old flag but should reflect the emerging character of the new nation. This is what the kiddies came up with - the winning entry ladies and gentlemen.

 

Thorn wrote: I am most impressed with the creativity of my school children in the Shires. They have told me that the banana is a symbol of myself, shining in the sky, enveloping this great nation of mine which is symbolised by the adjacent star. The banana is our image abroad, the yellow symbolizing our great justice system and the bravery of its leader -- that's me! I am so happy. They say I am like bananas. How cute! The red colour of the star symbolizes the blood spilled thus far to make this nation what it has become. How true!

 

My religious scientific advisors have been busy taking our country back through time. But like my favourite TV documentary, things have got a little fucked up. Instead of being transported to the Middle Ages our great nation has become stuck in Stalin's Russhire.

 

What a great opportunity! Here we are in revolutionary Russhire. My flunkies have been busy jailing everybody who has annoyed me during the last 10 years, just like Stalin. It's such fun. My show trial courts have now shown the world what true democratic justice is. This has been the just right of every great leader throughout history. Stalin, Hitler, Pinochet, Papa Doc, Brad Orbarma. Unfortunately cameras were banned and all the journalists in Istanshire were defendants so I didn't see what went on.  Note to self: Must be more open in the coming decades. The court cases would have been so popular on YouTube. No point in reading about it in the newspapers I control. They would just make it up.

Bugger! The villagers have started marching around with portraits of Joe Stalin in their hands chanting that they would rather have Stalin as a leader than me.  Sigh! Don't they have anything better to do than bitch about me ? Moan moan moan. All they do is moan. I should send out my police to start making random arrests in the village. That'll shut them up.

Day 42 - Time Travel at Last!

Editor's note: The 'fairy tale' in the previous blog entry is, like many of the events in this blog in which the piss is taken, completely true. The events happened in 2002. (Just in case you were wondering). In this parallel universe that dreadful feudalist country is called Shoddi Arabia. In your universe the name may be similar sounding. The picture is actually from the pre-Tallyban times in Afghanisshire when women could go to university - again the spelling in your universe may differ.

As you know, Mister Thorn's attempt at time travelling to change the law in the past using a Tardis were thwarted by a crafty cockney called Bob. It also didn't help that there is no such thing as a real Tardis. But how is a badly educated product of a faith school who believes in an omnipotent sky god going to know the difference between magic and technology ? 

But to control the past one only needs control of the media and so the need for a great magician like a Time Lord and his Tardis became irrelevant. Now the self-styled Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire has a greater problem. All the doctors who have not been jailed for helping the injured brownies and the cub scouts during the occupation of the village park have quit.

Thorn writes: Who needs doctors anyway ? And who needs Time Lords ? I am more powerful than any BBC Doctor. I will take my entire country time travelling. And when I issue the command, as that Star Trek Captain once said, then it will be so. I do love those documentaries. I shall instruct my network SeeNooNewsTurk to show them when the rebellious riff-raff are on the streets again.

To which era will you take your country ? - I asked Thorn.

Thorn: To the Middle Ages. The Middle Ages is when Istanshire was called the Pottyman Empire and ruled by the Pottymen. It was a time when women were strong and gave birth without the aid of doctors and their witchcraft. Ours will be a strong nation once again where no medicines are used and women will have to be strong and give birth to strong, healthy children. No more need for unclean medicines and pain killers made by pork eaters. I have instructed my health minister to ban all caesarian sections -- because the country's high street butchers have refused to help me by filling the empty surgeon's jobs. Pain killers are also a no-no.

But pregnant mothers will die agonising deaths - I protested. Children will die needlessly - I added.

Thorn: Your point being ?

Day 40 - The Babysitter from Hell

After numerous public relations gaffes (every time he opens his mouth in fact) Mister Thorn has been urged by the vicars to take time out and rediscover Family Life. The blunders -- too numerous to mention -- have transformed the self-styled Grand Caliph of  Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire into an international symbol of  Stupid. Here we see him reading a bedtime fairy story with a moral message from the new state religion of Masli to a small child lying in her bed.

Thorn: Once upon a time ....

Child: Ooh I love stories that begin once upon a time Grandpa Tey!

Thorn: Once upon a time there was a young girl living far far away in a land called Shoddi-Arabia, the centre of our great religion. She was beautiful and her family treated her like a princess.

Child: Ooh I love stories about princesses!

Thorn: Her family sent her to an all girls school where she studied to be a scientist.

Child: Nasty boys not there!

Thorn: One day there was a nasty explosion and a great fire broke out!

Child: Oh no!

Thorn: But the girls all escaped unharmed through an emergency door.

Child: All safe!

Thorn: But the good religious police guarding outside saw that the girls were undressed.

Child: They were naked at school ?

Thorn: Yes the girls were very bad and had taken off their veils. So the good religious police made them return to the building to fetch their veils and then, to protect their modesty, locked the doors behind them. The girls became stuck in the building. It was terrible. There was screaming!

Child: Oh no!

Thorn: But the good firefighters came and saw that the girls were undressed and would not enter the building.

Child: But then the children escaped ?

Thorn: No they all burned to death.

Child: (begins weeping)

Thorn: So the moral of this tale is - never forget your veil! Five years later the great wise leaders of Shoddi-Arabia changed the law so that firefighters could enter girls' schools.

Child: So the children are okay ?

Thorn: No, still dead. But they died and went to heaven. And as you know, in our great religion, having many virgins in heaven as a reward for our religious fighters is very important.

To cheer you all up - here is a young lady showing her Masli piety by wearing a head scarf. As you can see, no man will be tempted because her hair is covered.

 

Okay, just for balance, let's look at a picture of a truly modestly dressed young Masli lady (below). As you can see, young men passing have no interest in sex at all.

 

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.

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.

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.

 

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 ?

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.

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 ?

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.

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 ?