Digestions 2019

Judas Pose, Not Kiss

How can I tell? It's in his kiss - Sher

"The trouble with radio interviews is that there is no image to distract the audience from good listening" *


"Do you feel sympathy for him?" Micheal Hussain askes Robert Wood Johnson, US Ambassador to the Uk in an interview for the BBC at about 8 o'clock this morning Friday 26/7, referring to Sir Kim Darroch and the leaked confidential cable.

A pose follows.

Then: "What do you mean?" Robert Wood Johnson answers the question with a question.

This pose. This scared, little pose and then the fearful, tiny, stupid question "What do you mean?", coming from the Ambassador of the United States! As if the Ambassador of the United Stated to the UK did not understand English.

Which bit of "Do you feel sympathy?" didn't you understand? The "Do you" the "feel" or the "sympathy" bit?

But I'll tell you what. I feel sympathy for you mate. As this scared pose and the fearful stupid question gave you straight away: you know only too well that you are dealing with a moody, irrational, jealous and little person. Also it gave you away that you know far too well the meaning of a moody, irrational, jealous and little person in the position of a head of state. For it can mean only one thing : A dictator. Mad and arbitrary like Saddam, like Ceaușescu and all the others.

Admittedly, and luckily, the dictator in question is at rule in a democracy with governance self-protective mechanisms. Which doesn't mean that He is not a dictator. You are far too aware whom you are dealing with. Somebody, who will punish you for as much as you simply admitting feeling a natural sympathy in regards to a colleague fallen into a unlucky situation while fulfilling his duty.

How would I know? From your little pose mate. This little pose that I've heard many times before in the interviews of men on service with mad dictators. Or dictatorial regimes for the matter.

If you don't believe me listen to any BBC's interview with any official representative of the Iranian Ayatollahs. Each of these interviews contain a similar, little, terrified pose. The Juda's one.


*Iva Said

memento mori

"That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons even death may die", Lovecraft, "The Call of Cthulhu"

Even death may die. But not us. Not our creation/s.

We humans are very bad in accepting our and our creations' mortality, hence our animal nature.

But we die, briskly, unexpectedly and usually unfairly.

One of the most memorable and incomprehensible things I've seen in my life was the death of a six year old girl taken out of suport-drugs so that she may die in peace and her family may have the space to say their goodbyes the battle against her cancer once lost. The whole team of specialist and army of specialised personnel in a West London private clinic cried over the lost battle - the eternal battle of the living against Death.

And we were only the second team to surrender. The Russians, yes, the same old Russians who sent the first man in space; who flue the first woman in a rocket, who took the payment for the first "commercial" cosmonaut - a 60 year old wealthy American gentleman... they have given up before us putting arms down before the Reaper.

Five years later I still choke at the memory. And again in another hospital with another health team I cried bitterly and desperately over the death of the elderly Saudi gentleman when his heart gave up.

You though medical staff was immune of tears, snot and emotions? Yes, in films and in real life. But behind "real life" 's curtains everybody cries.

We humans and our oeuvre we are still mortal; even though constantly engaged in a vain, gods defying rivalry.

Reading Uncle Tom's Cabin to my son when he was eight in the 90s was impossible: "Mum, what is this?!?!" he would giggle in his pyjamas not believing his ears. It sounded ...what can I say... not at all as I remembered it. The book sounding so politically wrong to his infant ears he wouldn't allow me to finish it.

"Mum, what is this?!?!" More of the disbelieving giggles. Few years later there were attempts to censor Uncle Tom's Cabin in the States. To correct it. afterwards the book was taken off the programmes of some American high schools. Thus we came to realise - literary oeuvre/art may die too.

In strange aeons even man may die.

"Yes, man is mortal, but that would be only half the trouble. The worst of it is that he's sometimes briskly mortal—there's the trick!" Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita

Please note : whenever I have a spare penny I buy Revgenetics products! The import tax from USA is lifeshortening.

To Notre Dame, 16 April 2019


Uncle Tom and Eva, mass-market Staffordshire figure, England, 1855-1860, glazed and painted earthenware

It sounds funny and the winner in this musical tournament is obvious - bet on the UK.

Yet, EU wins the tournament of political activism and engagement. In EU we/they (I'm in an identity crisis at the moment) inhale and exhale politics. In EU wey (as an abbreviation of my present status of confusion) go to bed and wake up with politics. We eat it, ***t it, bore ourselves and each other blue with it. Wey also do things about it. But above all wey all talk about it. Talking about politics in an active pace has proven to be both therapeutic and pragmatic.

As the name of the horse Brexit rides remains largely unmentioned, let's shout it here "ENGLISH BON TON". You know the one : "We don't talk politics or religion".

It's surprising how a "free" society might self-censore up to Dream of the Dictator level. Conversations from an English dinner table nowadays would remain largely unnoticed if teleported to a 50s Moskovite kommunalka.

Back to the UK vs EU party - Not all is rivalry in its concept, see the special offer: English Gin and European Tonic.

There you go : in Sofia tonight.

Oh, and by the by, while the permanent residency application for EU citizens had become free, the document check up and the digital data collection related to British naturalization has been contracted to a private company.

(How many of the three million EU citizens will seek naturalization? A million?)

Hence, yesterday I did this - I handed all my personal data + fingerprints, image and signature to a private company. While a month earlier I allowed another private company to record my voice and to test my English.

In addition I paid them both.

Viva USA, sorry VIVA UK.

29 March 2019

Collaboration Horizontale, Robert Capa, 1944

Citizenship's Darkest Hour

10 March 

Yet, again a poor and low cultured decision was taken in regards to two more "Brides". For only poor people with low culture don't deal with their problems and relegate them into the open space - in this case the open international space. (A lifelong humanitarian-ngos' burden?)

The issue is pertinent for me as I am in the process of applying for British citizenship.

As a citizen of a poor, low cultured country which is permanently in a bent over position with its derrière turned towards its Big Red Brother; obtaining a second citizenship of a country that takes poor, low cultured decisions echoing those taken by its Big Orange Brother is mentally and emotionally difficult for me. (According to my experience life in a small country which is in a "mutually beneficial" relationship with a biger brotherly country could be very disappointing).

The whole point of the effort was to become a part of a rich and culturally elevated nation, wasn't it?

Unfortunately this latest of my revelations confirms Timothy Garton Ash's* theory that because of the consolidation of the capital and the way it rules the world emigration no longer provides solutions for problems.

Having realised that my beloved Bedu-habit of horizontal displacement would bring me to no good  place as illustrated above, I thought that now it might well be time for a vertical displacement for me - with my intellectual and practical luggage, I might turn to be a good ladder climber. 

It took me about ten seconds of mental climbing to realize that in the best case scenario if I climbed up very vertically and very quickly - up up up to the summit - I will fall upon, hence in the company of, (just as in my original country and which initiated the horizontal movement at the first place - a downtown girl wishes not to be seen in bad company).. these same people of, obviously, poor and low cultured background that take poor, low cultured decisions that deprive of sense any horizontal displacement - and who wants that? Not me, thank you.

No light on the horizon, nor stars above.


*Talk given in Sofia, Bulgaria in February.

The Wrong Ambassador - Shamima Begum is not Andy Murray

23 February 2019

We are far too used to English schizophrenia the clinical study case for which is Andy Murray: When Andy wins he is "our" player. When Murray loses he is a Scottish ****er.


Shemima Begum though is Bethnal Green Londoner. Striping her from citizenship won't strip her from her East London accent. (Despite the obvious fact that the Bethnal Green Academy cut short Shamima's  Speech and Language Therapist sessions).

Wherever she settles or roams until the end of her life she will have an English accent proper and be recognisable as The British Isis Wife.


At a second-level association whenever I hear Shamima Begum I think of British Petroleum gaz spillage in the Mexican Gulf.

The phrase "A lady never farts" pops up in my head. Yes, the lady never farts she just projects dirt away from herself.


England better take Shamima Begum home and launder her by a trail.


On the occasion of WW2's 75th anniversary next year, it might be a good idea to eventually decide how sex-colaborators should be lawfully treated.


Thus instead of letting Shamima Begum tour the world as the wrong ambassador take her back home and make her the precedent law case for a sex-collaborator. 

As this is what she was a sex-collaborator.


Alternatively she could undergo a lawsuit as the "howsewife" she insist she was.

In England if Shamima was divorcing a Russian oligarch she would have pleaded the right at half of his fortune.

As a wife of an Isis fighter, whom she obviously would like to divorce, Shamima might be entitled to half of her husband's fortune (or the whole of it if he is already dead) = a life sentence (?).

Unlike other housewives she can not claim that she was not aware of her husband's occupation.


Suing Shamima Begum at home would send a positive message to all women around the world :

a) you are responsible for your life and destiny even if you are a housewife.

b) your pussy is as dangerous a weapon as a gun - using it may lead to prison.


(This might be why decision makers don't want to deal with the hot Begum potato : women will refuse sex with politicians from the ruling party fearing their fall, therefore punishment, on future elections).


This is what I think as half مصلاوية Mosulite who still has plenty of family in Mosul.


Give justice don't swipe the dirt under somebody else's carpet.


And yes, pay the personal price - having left women with no other weaponry but their bodies - Yes, you might be deprived of sex. Even (or especially) if you are a too prominent a politician - decision maker.


Thus the children of footballers will inherit the world. (Not sure about tennis players - those occasionally British occasionally Scottish in particular).


Fair enough don't you think?

Britain's Golden Heart's Opinion

For Britain's Golden Heart - Caitlin Moran - clement and godly-forgiving point of view on Britain's Wrong Ambassador - Shemuma Begum fallow the link:


Or visit CW's dedicates subpage "CW WATCH BACK" here: