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 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 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 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 - 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 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!