Theresa May has been silent when called on to condemn US President Donald Trump’s support for far right groups. Damien Green, standing in for the PM in today’s Prime Minister’s Questions, failed to do so.
Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn showed real leadership – the kind that is not in the pocket of right-wing and corporate interests – with a simply-worded tweet:
Contrast with this:
It seems Corbyn was speaking on behalf of many of the people in this country – within minutes, his message had been retweeted thousands of times.
If UK voters want a Prime Minister who will lead the country and have the spine to stand up for the UK and for what’s right, there’s only one choice on the scene.
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First Secretary of State Damian Green last week made an unprincipled attack on the ‘new left media’ (NLM), in which he sank to new depths in his smears against the SKWAWKBOX and other well-known NLM publications – even stooping low enough to exploit the memory of the murdered Labour MP, Jo Cox.
Green – speaking to a gathering of ‘Westminster lobby journalists’ – ignored the behaviour of mainstream press and broadcasters to throw blanket accusations at this blog and others which cannot bear any reasoned scrutiny, especially in the light of the mainstream media’s (MSM) frequent use of material uncovered by the SKWAWKBOX, Canary and others as the basis for their own articles.
So the SKWAWKBOX decided to approach Mr Green directly, to challenge him to provide evidence to back up his smears. This is what we sent him, with a generous deadline for a response:
The questions are clear…
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by Monkles twitter.com/#/monkfry twitter.com/#/saramo
A backless dress and an exposed manky black bra. The restaurant hostess, and Maitre D’ flirted with a party of four English golfers slapping down four large glass goblets of lager laughing out loud at a golfer joke she neither heard nor understood.
A four day short break in Quarteira Portugal.
We discover resentment directed at the backless Maitre D’, by the two waiters, one tall, and toothless but articulate, the other short sweaty and harried. We note that Backless bullies Toothless and Harried and blames both of them for lost custom. Toothless claims that Backless favours Harried. Maybe Harried is more compliant with her demands than Toothless, but then Toothless knows his stuff.
It is the custom of Portuguese restaurateurs that they demand of their staff that they hustle passers-by to dine at their place and nowhere else. This is a dire unseemly and undignified process to all but the Portuguese. Tourists, including and especially this affronted Monk, would have to endure the constant hustling if they dared stray out of their hotel lobby.
You might escape restaurant hustlers by the simple manoeuvre of walking on the opposite side of the street. On that first day of our short break Toothless recognised us and noticed that we were avoiding the hustle at some distance. He ran, yes ran across the road to greet us. It was 3 years since he had seen us before. Back then we had played him against the other restaurants and teased him about the quality of his fish when compared to the pizza at Mamma Mia’s, or the better fish deal at Antonios.
Toothless was a real free market economist just like those posturing unreal Etonians, Cameron and Osborne, selling empty promises, and not so fresh fisherman’s yarns, blaming the consumer when the market gets stinky with greed.
Toothless may have greeted us like old friends but he never failed to have an eye for other passers-by who might be prepared to vote for his dead fish.
“Ladies, allow me to show you to your table,” Toothless would say to passing middle aged women. They would ignore him and pass him by. Toothless would then re-engage with us seamlessly as if we were the only friends he ever had.
As we dined I observed the spectacle of Backless failing to drag customers off the street. Some were embarrassed into accepting her offer and would sit at a table and be overwhelmed by her obsequious unfunny but laugh out loud banter, so annoying that they might change their minds, get up and leave. Backless’ smile would then evaporate and she would set about blaming Toothless. Beyond Harried would keep his distance or look busy walking to and fro’ the kitchen.
Like Backless, Toothless was also full of shit but he did at least accept the disappointment of a lost customer with some grace.
On our return home I notice an E-mail from Theresa May attempting to re-engage with me as if we were old friends.
Some iffy fish to sell apparently?
by Monkles twitter.com/#/monkfry twitter.com/#/saramo
The following is the first page made on Shoestringonline and became serialised as the story of the departure of Seamus and the arrival of Cat Flap Charlie.
Seamus Is Sick Part 2  Cat’s Pee by Leslie Monk 19-Mar 2004 I finally got my first urine sample, from Seamus the cat. Mrs Monk. normally does this job, but for once I was in the right place at the right time. My technique was as follows. Step 1. Seamus waits at the kitchen door, looks over his shoulder at me as if to ask me to me to open the door for him. He has a cat flap but prefers to have the door opened for him. Don’t ask? Step 2. Make him wait Make him really want to go. Step 3. Open Kitchen Door. Step 4. Follow him out into garden. Step 5. Watch him sit on crazy paving and wonder if anything will happen. Step 6 Joy as he makes progress toward ancient peeing site under the tree Step 7 Hold back and wait until he gets into mid stream. Then make advance. Lift his tail, and witness for the vary first time the strange backward trajectory of pee. Strange for a boy, I mean. Step 8 Thrust forward with diagnostic stick and get it wet. Step 9 Witness Seamus indignant stare. Step 10 Thrust fist into air. Step 11 Wait 20 seconds and note that Seamus has negative glucose in his pee. Lovely. 25-Mar 2004 Seamus has now made some sustained progress with his diabetes. He is now on 1 ml of insulin per day and Doc Margaret told me that if he continues to show negative glucose in his pee, then we might then drop the injections altogether. Alleluia 26-Mar 2004 7 am Woken this morning to Mrs Monk’s screaming from the Kitchen. I was out of bed in a flash, ran down stairs in the buff to the kitchen, where hysterical Mrs Monk. is pointing at a plump mouse under the table. I bagged up the poor creature, put him in the bin and went back to bed. 26-Mar 2004 1 p.m. Made myself a sandwich in the kitchen. Seamus is always right there beside me when I prepare my lunch but this time he was particularly lively. Just as I turned around, he tossed a fat mouse into the air. Second mouse of the day. 27-Mar 2004 9 am Gave Seamus his morning injection as Mrs Monk. pottered into the kitchen. Noticed another mouse under the Kitchen Table. Pointed it out to Mrs Monk. who was making breakfast. Mrs Monk. started screaming. I bagged up the mouse, who quickly joined the other two in the bin. 27-Mar 2004 4 p.m. After the usual Saturday shop we returned home and expected to find more mice, but no, there were none. However Mrs Monk was soon screaming once more. Seamus walked through the Kitchen door with a mouse in his mouth still kicking. I decided to pick him up complete with mouse and put him outside, in order to show him that his gifts were not welcome. Seamus squeaked and dropped the mouse, who continued to genuflect Seamus was quick to pick him up again and give the poor creature another going over. Again I made him drop the mouse, but this time the mouse had gone to mouse heaven. I was relieved actually and swiftly bagged and binned the creature. Mrs Monk. chastised me for not letting Seamus have the pleasure of giving us the offering. 28-Mar 2004 10 a.m. Seamus has gone missing. We searched high and low, but cannot find him. Therefore we could not give him his injection before our usual Sunday London trip. 29-Mar 2004 Seamus disappeared again this morning. We are assuming that he is out stalking more mice. Telephoned Margaret, the vet, who agreed that we need not inject him any more, but we are to continue to monitor his pee. The Story of Seamus and other cats will be serialised on these pages, but if you cannot wait for the whole story you may read all about it here in one helping. |
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by Monkles twitter.com/#/monkfry twitter.com/#/saramo
The following is the first page made on Shoestringonline and became serialised as the story of the departure of Seamus and the arrival of Cat Flap Charlie.
| Seamus Is Sick Part 1 19 Jan 2004 Seamus, the cat is sick. Not terminal, but he does have to get his teeth fixed, possibly pulled. The vet said he doesn’t need teeth to eat. Excuse me for asking. New German Vet sounded Scottish to Mrs. Monk, but passed Monk inspection nevertheless, due mainly to her willingness to clean up cat poop with enthusiasm. Sent away to administer antibiotics before big op on Friday. Pray for Seamus. 20 Jan 2004 Seamus is wise to our attempts to administer antibiotics. He now runs for the Cat Flap located in the kitchen door, chased by Mrs. Monk, who seems to know what’s good for him. Seamus usually pauses at the kitchen door, for about two minutes actually, checking out what might be on the other side of the flap; maybe a fox be out there, he may be thinking.. But today he made a bolt straight through the flap. Mrs. Monk, maybe confused by this change of cat strategy, opened the door while the poor creature was half way through his personal cat flap door. Try to imagine that scene …..It could have been tragic but we got over it. 21 Jan 2004 Mrs. Monk claims to have mastered the application of antibiotic into cat. What she doesn’t know is that two minutes after she “got it down him,” I saw the cat walking around with a great white sticky anti biotic gob hanging from his chin hairs. Not a pretty sight. I took over. I wrapped cat in blanket, forced his head back, injected fresh solution and waited, eye-balling the cat for three minutes until he eventually squeaked, indicating that he had indeed swallowed. You have to be cruel. 22 Jan 2004 Crowded waiting room at the Veterinarian. Large excitable German Shepherd, was there to have a leg removed, then a poodle walked in, limping. One man had 3 cats in individual boxes stacked up like a block of flats (apartments). No exotic animals but there was one pampered pedigree cat in a designer wicker cat carrier, who laid there sedately like a feline Barbara Cartland. The lady owner was similarly well turned out. What happens in these waiting rooms is that people enter and quietly sit down with their pets until someone else passes the time of day with them, thus soliciting the story of the pet’s ailment. That’s how we learnt about the amputation. Someone said to the owner, “Is it still raining outside”. The owner replied, “No, he’s having his leg off”. Similarly someone said to the lady with the basket, “What nice wicker?” The reply, delivered in an estuary tone, turned all heads,…. “Castration”. Thus we learnt that Barbara Cartland was just another naughty boy, with an immaculate pedigree, just like Alan Clark. (refers to another 2004 story) 23 Jan 2004 Vet called. Looks like Seamus might have diabetes. Further blood test on Monday. 26 Jan 2004 Monday Seamus Vet appointment at 9.30 pm Mrs. Monk’s Doctor Appointment at 10.30 pm Seamus was due for second blood test so that they can confirm his diabetes or not. They also required a urine sample, but since he was freshly evacuated of both No 1 and No 2 in the front seat of my car, they were unable to get the sample. If you have a constipated cat, just put him in a small box and take him for a car ride. (How do you know if a cat is constipated ….never mind) Seamus was therefore kept in the surgery until he co-operates with pee. Mrs. Monk had no such problem and came back from the doctor with the good news that she is not as sick as she thought he was. Alleluia! She went off to school with a spring in her step. She even kissed me goodbye. 26 Jan 2004 Monday 5 pm Vet called. Seamus has got glucose in his blood. Poor old chap. 6 Feb. 2004 Friday Vet called. Seems that pee-sample suggests that Seamus is only borderline diabetic and that earlier blood tests may have been effected by antibiotics he has taken. Vet wants to see him again on Tuesday. 10 Feb. 2004 Tuesday Seamus had his teeth pulled. Had to sign him over to the vet, who says he is borderline with diabetes. If we leave it any longer to fix his teeth, then we wont ever be able too if diabetes gets worse. That was the logic but we are now worried about the old chap. 10 Feb. 2004 Tuesday 6 pm His mouth is still bleeding, so they have to keep him in. Now we are worried. 11 Feb. 2004 Seamus OK but Vet tells me he wont eat, so we have to force some liquid goo into him tonight. First thing he did when he got back into the house was go straight for the food bowl. But he knows there is something missing from his mouth, and just walked away. Five minutes later he was back for another attempt to eat. Gave up after a few seconds, so I opened a tin of soft squigee tuna mix. He wants to eat, but just gave up. I offered him some milk which he devoured, then went back to his favourite comfort blanket and curled up for well-earned nap. I keep an eye on. His little pink tongue hangs out weirdly. 13 Feb. 04 Seamus is very pissed off. And off his food. Hides behind couch. Punishes us by drooling on the furniture. He still climbs on my chest while I sleep. Sally says that last night we were nose to nose, both of us asleep. “What about the drool” I asked. 18 Feb. 2004 Wednesday Further developments on Seamus. Seems that he is now officially diagnosed diabetic; no half way house, but the full Monty. We had just got over the teeth pulling, and the consequential gob drooling. Things seemed to be back to normal. Seamus is as greedy as ever and I swear he almost started smiling. But then they hit us with the revised diagnosis. We were given a video to learn how to look after a pet. Video feature a dog who was able to give a urine sample in a cup. Yes, we have questions. We are also on a four day training programme, visiting the vet to learn how to inject insulin and more. I was given charge of his very own bottle of Insulin, but failed to refrigerate it overnight. An expensive mistake, maybe 50 squids. And that’s just the insulin We are running up bills. Mike said, “maybe its time for the one-way visit to the vet.” “No way”, I said, “He’s our pal” 19 Feb. 2004 12 pm Practised injection technique today by injecting grapefruit juice into lemon. Watched Sally try the same thing. To say that she is cackhanded, would be to diminish cackhandedness. Looks like I shall be the nominated nurse, Tonight I inject the beast for the first time. 19 Feb. 2004 6 pm Gave my first injection to Seamus. The problem is not so much the injection, but more the choosing of the target. Vet has thoughtfully shaved a section of Seamus’ neck, to make the target more obvious, to the novice nurse. Seamus is getting very used to these car trips, but he did disgrace himself in his box. A blessing in disguise because vet was able to do analysis on pee. Poo served no useful purpose. Seamus had good sense not to sit in poo after producing it in confined space.  21 Feb. 2004 Two further visits to vet where I was supervised giving injections to Seamus. Tomorrow I give first injection at home, unsupervised. We have as yet failed to get a urine sample; something we are supposed to do once a day. This is going to be a problem. 8 Mar 2004 A weekend in the Royal County of Berkshire visiting the family branch not seen for 18 months. Fell arse over face playing tennis. Trying too hard to chase an unreachable ball. Failed to acknowledge athletic shortcomings brought on by advanced age. First time Seamus had to take his chances with Diabetes (No Injection on Sunday) Ireland beat England, The World Champions, on Saturday. Seamus Monk, as the vet calls him, was pleased to see us, and being Irish……….., he gloated all the way to his Whiskas. 10 Mar 2004 Seamus has never been better. Thick black shiny coat. He has it seems become something of a kitten again running up and down the stairs. Putting on weight. Never seen as a bad thing to Mrs. Monk, but naughty as far as Margaret, our vet, is concerned. He is now on 90 gms. of food, twice a day only, and he does not like the portions. The begging is now into overdrive. He used to amble over to the fridge, if ever someone got near it, but now he stands next to it at all times like a sentry. If anyone pays attention to this, he will rub up against the fridge with the side of his face. Yes, he loves the fridge even though it contains the insulin, and on top…. is the box of needles. I give him the needle, and Mrs. Monk does the pee testing. I have never seen her do this and I have never actually done it myself. By the very nature of the exercise, it is an opportunistic task, involving being in the right place at the right time. What that says about Mrs. Monk, I’ll leave to the reader. Today he had a little glucose, damn it. The Story of Seamus and other cats will be serialised on these pages, but if you cannot wait for the whole story you may read all about it here in one helping. Seamus is Sick |
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by Monkles twitter.com/#/monkfry twitter.com/#/saramo
The following post was made in the first year of Shoestringonline.
| 25 Feb. 2004 Clare Short
Saw Clare Short on a reality TV show being a geography teacher for one week. She entered the school with a set of beliefs about how a teacher should teach, and to her credit, by the end of the week she had changed her mind. This is how it went. Stage 2: Clare Short was cruelly exposed by comparison with real teacher. Stage 3: Clare Short accepted the importance of maintaining discipline. Top marks. Mrs Monk says that there are some real teachers who actually teach the Clare Short way. 26 Feb. 2004 Thursday 27 Feb. 2004 Friday |
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by Monkles twitter.com/#/monkfry twitter.com/#/saramo
The following post was made in the first year of Shoestringonline.
| 28 Jan 04 Wednesday Snow Rage First of the promised Snow. Mrs. Monk decided she could not drive to work today. Too Icy. I was recruited as Chauffeur and Snow sweeper. Teacher, Katerina and teenage daughter Vaneta were there, as usual, like penguins in the snow. Vaneta has been advised (and teased) about her, non-hat-wearing-in-cold-weather-fashion-statement, every day for two weeks, but has rejected that advice. Another teenage fashion victim. Today, however she went to the other extreme, and wore the tallest hat I have ever seen. She wore it proudly.28 Jan 04 5 pm The snow evaporated during the course of the day Mrs. Monk took the car out to Safeway, (unusually), but then I got the phone call. She cried down the phone just one word, “HELP!”, and then hung up the phone. I looked outside and was amazed that the town had turned white in 20 short minutes and, Mrs. Monk was in trouble. In one serious panic, she just could not park the car. I found myself hopping around trying to put shoes on, and at same time trying to talk to her down the road through a white blizzard. (Where’s the megaphone when you need it). Eventually I got to her and told her to leave the car where it was, in the middle of the road, and to “leave it to me”. She got out of the car, but then half way out of the driver’s seat, realized that she had left the car in “drive”. Panic turned to hysteria, and I have to admit to shoving my beloved out of the way in order to pursue my car which had started an unaccompanied downhill slalom toward the sea. No fear. I managed to run alongside and hop aboard and, let’s face it with all due modesty, save the day. Mrs. Monk was apparently set off by a man who yelled at her for driving too slow in the middle of the road. Obviously, it was all his fault. |
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by Monkles twitter.com/#/monkfry twitter.com/#/saramo
The following post was made in the first year of Shoestringonline.
| 25 Jan 2004 Sunday Armani London Day trip. Ran into Mike and Karen at the Armani exhibition. Karen was really into the Armani when Mrs. Monk surprised her. Mrs. Monk is so not into Armani. Mike was a detached onlooker when we first observed him. He had to move occasionally to avoid being confused with the mannequins. (His joke, but he was strangely Armani-like, dressed in bible-black and collar-less). I thought the show was pretty good, but a bit swanky for my taste. Mrs. Monk, of course wanted to know how much a dress like that would cost. “An arm and leg,” I said, “Thus the symbolism of the armless, legless, and indeed headless, mannequins”. |
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Unmade Films was conceived 20 years ago as a magazine in print. Art house films had a substantial audience at that time but even then screen writers were frustrated by the compromises of the film market. Fewer films get made that go beyond the objective of appealing to teenage boys, who are the essential demographic that provides the yardstick of potential profitability for Hollywood producers, and the British high street Odeon franchise, that is fanatical about profit, but has little interest in cinema. These pages are dedicated to the scripts of films that have not so far materialised into film.
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shoestringonline 